


In Pieces

by daisybrien



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Birth, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hange, Levi, and Erwin are accustomed to being apart when their work forces them to another country. But when Erwin comes home in pieces, it takes all three to hold each other together. (For Polyshipping Day)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distance

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter was a prompt fill from tumblr, which I then decided to continue as the second chapter. So it's more of a prologue than an actual first chapter.

Hange’s Skype goes off as she’s getting ready for her morning shift, Erwin’s icon popping up as she buttons her shirt, leaving her scrambling across the bedroom in a tangle of clothes in order to answer in time.

She slams a finger on her mouse, practically screaming Erwin’s name as his blurry face appears on the screen, coming into focus as she perches her glasses on her nose. She flashes a smile at the monitor as she stumbles into her desk chair.

"Hey Hange," Erwin laughs, voice sounding through the speaker. His hair is cropped short, pushed back and gelled on his head, sweat beading on his forehead. "It’s good to see you’re doing okay."

"I should be saying that to you!" Hange says. "How have you been?"

"Same old," Erwin answers. "It’s hot as hell here, though. Where’s Levi?"

"He had to go to work early," Hange says, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "He has a meeting halfway across the city."

"I’m hoping him and Nile are behaving well?"

"Don’t even mention Nile," Hange groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Erwin’s laugh booms from her monitor, his image freezing on the screen. "If I have to hear Levi complain about him or his damn goatee again I’m going to smash something. Damn asshole just can’t accept his beard is against the fucking uniform standards."

"Let the poor guy grow his poor excuse for a beard - no, Mike, I’m not talking about you -" His image starts to move again, movements choppy and broken as he pushes someone offscreen. "He’s a higher rank than both of you."

"I didn’t know that meant he can break uniform standards." Hange mutters. 

"Doesn’t mean you should be rude to him, either."

"Listen Erwin," Hange says, straightening in her seat. "As much as I love to trash talk Nile with you, I need to leave soon. I know Levi should be here when I tell you this. But I don’t know if I’ll get another chance to tell you-"

"Don’t say that," Erwin interrupts. 

“When I’ll get another chance to tell you this,” Hange corrects herself. She shuffles around on her desk, pulling a pink stick from the mess of papers scattered across their room. She holds it up to the camera, pink plus sign large and distorted in the small window at the bottom of her screen.

"Levi and I may have had too much fun without you here."

Erwin holds a hand over his mouth, pixellated tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “You’re…”

"Yeah," Hange says, her own tears threatening to spill from her cheeks. She lets out a pained sound from her throat, a laugh almost bordering on a sob. "You better come back home to us in one piece."

"I can’t promise that."

"But you’ll try," Hange says, wiping her eyes. She forces a smile on her face, Erwin mirroring her. 

"I love you. All three of you. "

"I love you, too. Levi says the same."

Erwin raises his eyebrows, his puzzled face freezing again. “Did he really?”

"Well, he said that he’ll kill you if you don’t get your ass home and help us with the new brat," Hange says, "but you know what he means."

"I need to go, Erwin," she sighs. "Please stay safe."

"I’ll try my best," he murmurs, flashing her a comforting smile before his face disappears from the screen.


	2. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin's injuries leave more than physical scars.

Levi’s hands are stiff and tight around the steering wheel, fingers numb and knuckles cracked from the bitter winter’s cold as he turns onto the exit ramp, the force of the turn pushing him back into the seat. He lets out a deep sigh as the car lurches to a stop at the traffic light, a plume of mist drifting from his lips. He moves in his seat, the small of his back protesting in pain as he stretches out the muscles, stiff and aching from the hours spent driving.

He taps the wheel with one finger, growing impatient with the red light shining at him, mocking him from the other side of the intersection as if it were trying to make the car ride longer and more tedious than it had to be. He reaches one hand out to click the radio on, coming to a halt when he sees Hange in the passenger seat, head lolled to the side.

She lies reclined in the passenger seat, her whole body almost completely turned to the window, bundled up in mountain of quilts to fend from the cold. Her brow furrows in her sleep, dark circles lining the creases under her red rimmed eyes. She curls around her swollen belly, arms wrapped around her midriff protectively. 

One hand moves toward her temple, brushing a lock of hair away from her face, tucking it safely behind her ear. She sighs, eyes fluttering open, grimacing as she straightens in her seat.

“We there yet?” she mumbles, words slurred in her state of drowsiness. She groans slightly, leaning forward in her seat, pressing one hand to her lower back. He feels a pang of guilt for waking her up. She had spent the last few nights in an exhausted, sobbing heap, the baby draining her of any and all of the little energy she had.

“We should be there soon,” Levi says, making the turn once the light flashes green. “I didn’t want to wake you. Try and rest.”

“I don’t think I can,” she groans. She squeezes her eyes shut, exhaling slowly, both hands moving to grip her back.

“Do you need to get out and stretch?”

“No,” she leans back into her seat again, tucking the blankets around her. “I just want to get there as fast as possible.”

“Well, I’m trying my best,” Levi sighs, fidgeting, both hands holding the wheel in a vice grip.

“I know,” Hange says, voice thick. She turns to look out of her window, and Levi hears her sniff. “I’m just worried about him.”

He removes one hand from the steering wheel and reaches over to take hers lying on her extended stomach, their fingers intertwining. He places their clasped hands together on the gearshift, thumb moving in circles over her knuckles. Her fingers squeeze his.

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, watching sign after sign flit by as they fly past, the whoosh of passing cars sounding rhythmically as Levi drives. The groaning rumble of plane engines roar above them occasionally, grey metal monsters soaring above them in the bright blue of the sky. He turns off the main road at the first hospital sign, following the path traced by each blue-bordered H.

The dull brick building grows to meet them as they make it farther down the road. Levi turns into the visitor’s parking lot, winding their way through the rows of yellow lines before parking in the closest spot to the sidewalk. He steps out of the car, cold air slamming into his chest before he can fully zip the front of his jacket shut, making his way around the dented metal to Hange’s side. He opens her door, offering an outstretched hand, one that she doesn’t take. She makes her way out of the car with a groan, one hand tracing circles on her stomach.

“You alright?”

Her red rimmed eyes flit towards him, a weary smile spreading on her face. “I guess I have to be.”

“His family is already there,” Levi grumbles. They start making their way to the entrance of the hospital, shoes tapping against the cold cement. The automatic doors slide apart to accept them, Levi taking multiple pumps from the hand sanitizer dispenser secured to the wall. They step into a small café, nurses in scrubs and visitors milling around with paper cups and paper bags. The smell of coffee and antiseptic fill their noses. “We’re going to have to deal with his mother.”

“I couldn’t give two shits about what his mother thinks of us,” Hange says. “Making sure Erwin’s safe is more important than insulting his mother.”

Moblit is waiting for them by the elevators, dress blues impeccably ironed, black boots shining. He leads them into one of the open lifts.

His nervous voice breaks the silence. “We could have arranged some kind of transportation for you guys. It must have been a long drive.”

“We’re fine,” Levi says. The doors slide open, revealing the dirty white walls of the hospital, the coziness and welcoming air of the café gone. The smell of antiseptic is stronger now, mixed with the faint scent of soiled laundry. Levi feels goose bumps erupt on his arms, can almost feel the germs drifting through the corridor.

“We’re also willing to pay for any living arrangements you guys might have,” he continues, leading them down the hallway. Levi spots a gaggle of blondes by the end of the hall, assumes that they must be outside of Erwin’s room. “I don’t know if you’ve already booked a hotel or something to stay in until we can transfer Smith closer to his home.”

“We’d really appreciate that,” Hange says. “How’s Erwin?”

“He’s conscious,” Moblit says slowly, “but disoriented and weak. They’re pretty much pumping pain medication into his system. Try and make sure he takes it easy.”

Moblit leaves the two of them by standing limply in front of Erwin’s. Levi knocks on the heavy wood, trying to avoid touching the door handle. He wonders how many dirty hands have touched it the last time it was wiped down, wonders how many people have died, been sick in the spot he was standing in.

The door swings open slowly, revealing a blonde woman, her oily hair tied back messily, blue eyes swollen and teary. Lines run crease through the pale skin of her face. She engulfs Levi in a desperate hug, arms squeezing the air from his lungs, his body rigid and unmoving. She lets go of him to do the same to Hange, leading her inside with an arm around her large torso. It takes Levi a moment to realize it’s Erwin’s mother.

It’s puzzling, seeing her without her usual expression of distaste, pursed lips and glaring eyes gone. He follows the two of them inside, natural light shining in through the dirty windows, lines of shadow tracing over the figure lying on the single bed in the room.

He hears Hange gasp, one hand covering her mouth, trembling breath hissing through the gaps in her fingers. Her eyes grow wide, tears swimming in the brown of her iris. She mimics the same appearance of a deer in headlights, the same expression of shock and futility on her face when they had received a knock on their door, uniform clad soldiers standing solemnly on their front doorstep.

They rush to Erwin’s bedside, one on each side. Levi thinks he looks like he’s been to hell, maybe seen the devil himself. Stubble peppers his jaw, a grey outline on his gaunt, pale face, skin stretched over the bone. There are hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes the colour of purple bruises. Hange pushes her fingers through his greasy hair, Levi’s hand following suit. His sweaty forehead is hot to the touch.

Levi’s attention shifts to Erwin’s shoulder, nothing but a stump wrapped in surgical bandages and tape, covered by the thin, worn sheets on the bed. Patches of gauze stretch over the right side of his chest, disappearing under his hospital gown. Bandages dot his neck and face, covering stitches.

Erwin’s eyes flutter open at the touch, thick eyebrows drawing together, deep wrinkles forming in his forehead. His head shifts back and forth between the two faces above him, seemingly distracted by his surroundings, giving off the impression of a dizzy child after spinning in circles.

His head stops, looking towards Levi, eyes dazed and unfocused. It seems to take an eternity for his eyes to stop darting back and forth in his skull. His blue eyes stare into Levi’s grey ones, and there is an apprehensive pause before Erwin registers exactly who is standing in front of him.

“Levi,” the word is no more than a wheeze, rasping and weak.

“It’s me, Erwin,” Levi reassures, his vision blurring, a lump in his throat blocking the words. He feels as though he’s been punched in the gut, knowing how close he was to losing the man lying on the bed in front of him, how they were all one piece of metal shrapnel away from his death.

There’s a choked sob on the other side of the bed. Tears stream freely down Hange’s cheeks, joining together at the bottom of her chin, her mouth stretched into a painful smile. She leans forward to kiss Erwin’s forehead, her fingers entangling with his, their hands gripping tight enough to almost pull the IV from the back of his hand.

“Oh god, we were so worried,” she sobs quietly, her hair hiding both their faces. “We thought we were going to lose you.” Levi leans over, pressing a comforting hand to her back, rubbing the space between her shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re okay. We’re so glad you’re safe.”

She straightens herself, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, murmuring apologies under her breath.

“I’m sorry,” Erwin whispers hoarsely. “I guess I didn’t come home in one piece.”

“Few of you did,” Levi mutters solemnly. They had flown Erwin home with a couple of caskets in tow, draped in red and white. “Don’t apologize for something you can’t help.”

Erwin closes his eyes for a moment, almost in a grimace of pain, reopening to see fresh tears swimming in them, jaw clenching in order to keep them from spilling.

He relinquishes his hold on Hange’s hand, reaching out to touch her round abdomen, palm tentatively brushing the fabric of her shirt. She pulls up one of the chairs behind her, sitting close enough for him to rub her stomach without straining himself.

The three of them sit in silence, people shuffling in and out of the room before Erwin breaks the silence.

“You’ve changed so much,” he sighs, staring at her in awe, thumb moving back and forth over the gentle curve. “I wish I could have been there from the start.”

“You’ll get to be here for the rest of it,” Hange says. Erwin closes his eyes again, one corner of his mouth twitching up in the smallest of grins. “That’s what matters.”

“It’s good that you’re here,” Levi mutters, moving to place a kiss to his temple. He watches Erwin sink into the mattress, grin barely present as exhaustion claims him. Levi adjusts the sheets around him, swearing under his breath about germs and proper hygiene. “I’d kill you for leaving us with a brat to take care of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe I'll continue this. Don't get your hopes up.


	3. New Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin, Levi, and Hange welcome the new member of the family.

Soft light and muffled murmurs pull Erwin out of sleep, his body twitching as he regains consciousness. His mind spins, images flitting through his head, his chest heaving in panic, sweat dotting his brow and soaking the front of his nightshirt. His one fist clenches the sheets as he tries to control his breath, his eyes opening to the dark outlines of his room. When he turns around, he finds the other side of the bed empty.

He sits up, yawning, his hand moving up to rub at his face. Stubble scratches against his palm. His legs swing over the side of the mattress sluggishly, feet pushing into his slippers, lifting himself up. He shuffles towards the door, following the muttering drifting towards him from down the hall, dim light shining from the guest bedroom.

Erwin stands with his ear to the door, voices rising and ebbing in a steady flow, words incomprehensible. He spots Levi through the crack in the door, kneeling in front of the mattress and its tangled sheets, a look of exhausted concern twisting his face. He hears a pained groan.

“What is it?” Levi’s tired voice breaks through the silence, his face disappearing as he gets up, bedsprings creaking as he sits on the mattress. Erwin hears another voice, a suppressed noise of discomfort that is unmistakably Hange. It makes Erwin’s heart twist, makes him want to comfort her, makes him want to apologize for all the stress he’s caused since he came home injured and scarred, for forcing her to move into the guest bedroom when his thrashing and night terrors threatened her safety.

“It hurts,” Hange groans. She exhales, her breathing slow. “I think this might actually be it.”

Her words send a thrill of fear into him, his heart thumping in his chest and his stomach plummeting. He grabs the door handle, pushing his way slowly into the room.

“Is everything alright?” Erwin asks, pushing his way into the room. Their heads snap up in surprise, bedhead falling into their dark circled eyes. Levi gets up from the edge of the bed, leaving Hange hunched over herself, brow furrowed as one hand circles her enormous belly.

“I’m fine, Erwin,” Hange says, the corners of her mouth twitching to flash him a weak smile. “You should go rest –“ 

“You’re not fucking fine,” Levi grumbles, grabbing Erwin’s shoulder in acknowledgement and reassurance as he squeezes past. “Stay with her. I’m getting the overnight bag.”

Erwin hears Levi’s feet shuffle across the floorboards, his body flying up and down the hallway frantically, swearing under his breath. He moves toward Hange, the bed creaking as he sits by her side, his one arm winding it’s way around her waist. She leans into it, her head falling on his shoulder. Brown hair tickles his neck.

“He worries so much,” Hange laughs, “he gets flustered so easily. Little guy needs to take a chill pill at some point.”

“I think it’s mostly my fault,” Erwin sighs. “I know I’ve caused you two a lot of unneeded stress.”

“Don’t say that,” Hange says, her voice barely a whisper. She turns her head, placing a chaste kiss on his neck. “You’re still coping. We’re happy you’re with us.”

She leans forward, moaning softly, wrinkles creasing her forehead. Erwin’s hand rubs circles on her back, soothing the stiff muscles, her body relaxing under his touch. 

“How long has it been going on for?” he asks, waiting for her to sit up again.

“I don’t know,” she says, stretching. “Maybe since this afternoon? It’s hard to tell.”

“And you didn’t tell either of us.”

“I didn’t think I needed to,” Hange answers. “The last few nights have been really weird. It’s only really started to hurt now.”

A door slams down the hall, making Erwin jump, Hange’s hand softly gripping his arm to ground him. Levi’s feet pound against the floor, and he flies through the doorway of the bedroom with bags slung over his arms. One hand reaches out, wrapping around Hange’s shoulder, leading her out into the corridor and down the stairs.

They shuffle into the car in a mess of limbs, throwing bags overflowing with baby bottles and diapers into the trunk, their own clothes dangling haphazardly from half open pouches. Levi drives with his fingers clamped around the steering wheel, curses flying through gritted teeth at every red light, speeding past every sign as he swerves through the lanes of traffic. Erwin is left with the phone, slowly dialing each of their relatives in the backseat, Hange reaching out to help when his thumb can’t stretch far enough to press the call button. She yells into the mouthpiece while he’s talking to her mother, her head leaning against his shoulder, seemingly torn between groaning in pain and laughing at Levi’s panic as he flies by another stop sign.

Levi screeches into the hospital parking lot, Hange laughing through tears when he runs halfway to the doors without them. Erwin helps her out of the backseat, still clad in her pajamas. He lets Levi drape a shoulder bag over his neck. 

Despite the flurry of panic surrounding her, Hange is surprisingly the only one of them able to stay calm through the whole ordeal, her lighthearted attitude leaving Erwin in a state of admiration and disbelief. She laughs the entire way up to the maternity ward, still giggling with the nurses as they settle her in one of the rooms.

It doesn’t last long.

She doesn’t lie down. Instead of taking refuge in her room, she decides to pace up and down the corridors of the ward, Styrofoam cup in hand, stopping by every ice machine for a refill. Erwin and Levi follow her with aching feet, stopping when she does, linking arms and rubbing her back when she pauses to lean against the dirty walls. The occasional scream echoes through the hall, the antiseptic smell of the hospital filling their noses. It sets Erwin on edge.

“This is incredible,” Hange says, hours later, her eyes wide and unfocussed. Even through her amazement, her strange and astonishing capability to be in wonder of everything happening, she still clenches her teeth, groaning. Her legs almost buckle, and she puts her entire weight on the two of them, panting in exhaustion.

“We should go back to the room,” Erwin says, wrapping his arm around her waist. Hange turns into him, hands clasping behind his neck. She presses her face into his shirt, muffling her next groan, Erwin swaying her back and forth in his arm.

“I don’t want to lie down,” she pants, “it makes it worse.”

“You don’t have to lie down,” Levi says, and they lead her back down the hallway, shoes clapping slowly on the tile floors.

They urge her into the room, a groan sounding from deep in her throat. She has to lean forward on the bed, hunched over the edge of the mattress, hands sinking into cushioning. While Levi stands by her side, Erwin seats himself on the other side of the bed, facing her, dabbing at the sweat beading on her face with a damp cloth. Soon her groans turn into barely suppressed screams, her face twisting in agony. 

They rattle in Erwin’s head, the chemical smell of the room nauseating him, his skin burning with the memory of IVs and medical stickers. Pain prickles in his stump of a shoulder. His hand starts to shake.

“Erwin.” Her voice is weak, drained of her energy. One hand reaches out to brush against his temple. She catches him off guard, snapping him out of the nervous daze he didn’t realize he was in, and he looks up at her, making eye contact that he didn’t know he was trying to avoid. 

The corners of her mouth twitch up. “You don’t have to stay here if you can’t.”

“I need to be here,” he chokes out. 

Hange takes Erwin’s hand, pulling it towards her lips, and he feels so ashamed that she’s the one comforting him, that she’s the one who has to calm his frantic breath and trembling fingers and panicked heart, thumping so hard in his chest he thinks it’s about to burst out of his ribcage. 

“You can leave,” she sighs, and he’s secretly grateful, no matter how horribly he wants to stay, how bad he feels for leaving. Levi stares at him with concern, brow furrowed, a scowl twisting his mouth. “Levi, tell him he can leave.”

Erwin lets Levi push him from the room, watching Hange’s face contort as pain wracks her body, the door clicking shut as another scream tears its way up her throat.  
He sits in the waiting room, restless but unmoving in the stiff plastic chairs, his fingers tugging through his hair and his leg bouncing frantically. He takes to watching the faces around him, their smiles and murmurs too cheery and hopeful. People’s eyes flit toward his empty sleeve, their gaze quickly flitting away when they lock eyes with him, the occasional child made new older sibling gawking at him as their relatives pull them by. He stares at the nurses and guests milling past, the sea of murmurs and occasional cries of infants lulling him into an anxious haze.

The sun is well into its plunge behind the horizon when Levi comes rushing into the waiting room in a disheveled frenzy. Erwin jolts out of his seat, head darting up when he hears Levi’s voice calling him. Levi practically jumps at him, hands wrapping around Erwin’s thick torso, mouth reaching up to press their lips together.  
They break apart, Erwin’s heart speeding. “Is Hange…?”  
“It’s a girl,” Levi says, his voice thick, tears swimming in the grey of his iris. He turns back down the hallway, pulling Erwin with him before he can register the words.

There are doctor and nurses still hovering around Hange when they enter the room, their gloved hands covered in blood and god knows what, the shrill screech of a baby ringing in their ears. Hange sits up on the bed, bare-chested, strands of brown hair plastered to her face with sweat. She smiles down at the bundle cradled against her chest, laughter bubbling from her lips. 

She spots them through a gap in the crowd of scrubs around her, tears streaming down her cheeks, her smile almost bringing Erwin to his knees.

Levi rushes to her side, tears threatening to spill as he sits on the edge of the bed. Hange leans into him, his arms wrapping around her protectively, shoulders shaking as his face disappears in her hair. She presses her head into his chest, her eyes meeting Erwin’s from across the room.

“Erwin,” she says softly, and he feels a sob ready to tear through his throat, his vision blurring. “Come meet our daughter.”

Erwin moves forward, sitting on the other side of the mattress. He leans his forehead against Hange’s hair, staring down at the squirming bundle in awe, nothing but a scrunched up, wailing face peeking out of the blanket’s folds, pressing against her mother’s bare breast.

He finds himself at a loss for words, a lump in his throat. His one hand moves to gently cradle the back of the infant’s head, and she seems to calm down at the touch, her shrieking cries settling into soft whimpers as she tries to latch onto Hange’s nipple. Overwhelming joy floods through him, the urge to protect the people in his arms consuming him, making him squeeze in closer, his thumb brushing against the sticky, matted black hair on the baby’s head. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, for not being in the room, for causing so much trouble for the three of them, for not staying with them when they needed him most. But Hange turns toward him, her smile radiating warmth, radiating forgiveness and unending joy and the unconditional love that makes him wonder what he did to earn it in the first place, how he came to deserve to give the same love to the family he holds against his chest.

His family.

He has a family now.

“Look,” Hange says, “Levi’s crying.”

“Shut up,” Levi says, streaks staining his cheeks, pressing a kiss against her temple. Erwin feels laughter erupt from his chest, watching them press closer together, their baby cradled protectively in their arms.

“You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here,” Hange tells him later, buried half asleep in the hospital sheets, Erwin’s arm wrapped around a sleeping Levi in the chair beside him, their baby cooing in her plastic bassinet on the other side of the bed. “In one piece or not.”

Erwin smiles, carefully moving his arm out from behind Levi’s back. He reaches forward to run his fingers through Hange’s greasy hair. She hums slightly, her eyes closing at the touch, sleep finally claiming her after the past hours of mayhem.

“I love you,” Erwin whispers, watching the sheets rise and fall rhythmically with her breathing. He sits back, his arm winding it’s way around Levi’s waist again, his head leaning on Levi’s as his eyes droop shut.

It’s his first moment of peaceful rest since coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter. It just keeps happening.


	4. Blessings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't seem to stop with this.

Erwin thinks of maternity leave as a blessing.

The weeks after Luisa’a birth flies by in a haze of bliss, family members floating by the house every few days, the quiet atmosphere of their home accented by the frequent wailing whine of their baby. It’s the first break any of them have had since Erwin’s homecoming, their paid leave letting the three of them enjoy the welcome break from work without stress. 

The first few days at home are hectic, filled with tired laughter and frantic worry, trudging through their newfound parenthood triple checking the warmth of baby formula and heaving their stomachs over diapers. Their nights are spent darting around the house, their days sleeping in an exhausted heap until Luisa calls them from rest, demanding care with a shrill cry through the crackling baby monitor in the corner of the room.  


Erwin reels in panic the first time he hears the monitor crackle, his hand reaching for the nonexistent radio strapped to his thumping chest, ready to shout orders to his squadron. Levi and Hange have to ground him, sitting him down into one of their armchairs, hands gripping him tightly, reassuringly. He doesn’t calm down until Hange carries a whimpering bundle into their room, the fear in his heart replaced with the swelling feeling of love and pride when he sees his daughter’s face peering up at him through the blanket’s folds.

He becomes accustomed to it, the muffled wailing that sounds through it becoming less of a trigger and more of a comfort, a reminder of the family around him that he has become an unquestioned part of. 

“You pervert,” Hange smirks at him in the middle of the second week, catching him in the doorframe of the nursery as he watches her nurse. He’s not ashamed to admit that he loves watching the two of them, the usual energy in both of them – like mother, like daughter – not completely gone, but subdued in a moment of peace. 

“What?” Erwin responds, making his way into the nursery, kneeling by the rocking chair in the corner of the room. “Can you blame me for thinking you’re beautiful?”

“Always the charmer,” Hange says, rolling her eyes, one hand pressing the baby closer to her bare breast. “No wonder you captivated me and Levi, way back when.”

“I’m not lying,” Erwin says. He smiles at her words, remembering the beginning of their relationship together, the three of them unsure and hesitant. Saying he’s glad that they made it this far would be an understatement.

“I know you’re not,” Hange replies, still attentive to the infant in her arms. “Although you seem to like watching me breastfeed. Some guys have a kink for that, you know.”

“I would keep an eye out for Levi, then.”

Hange chortles in her seat, the chair rocking farther back. Luisa starts in her arms, tiny limbs flailing out, waving incoherently before settling back against her torso, Hange shushing and rocking her.

“You’re a wonderful mother,” Erwin murmurs, the words slipping from his mouth. He earns a radiant smile in response, Hange bringing the baby’s head to lie on her shoulder, rubbing her back in circles.

The sentiment bounces through Erwin’s head as the days drag on. He’s being honest, his words only growing with sincerity as he watches the two of them with her. Even Levi, his usual scowl nowhere to be seen, carries himself with a demeanor of calm, gentle smiles gracing his lips whenever he finds their child in his arms.  
He can’t help but feel a pang of guilt when he has to call one of them to help him answer Luisa’s whimpers, blooming in his chest as one of them shuffles blearily into the nursery, dark circles tracing under their eyes. They tend to diapers and feeding, adjusting baby socks with the deft meticulousness and gentle precision he lacks. 

He can only do so much with one arm.

“Don’t worry about it,” Levi yawns when Erwin brings it up. He leans his head on his hand as he stirs a spoon through the milk of his cereal, black hair tousled with sleep – or lack thereof. “Not a lot you can do with one hand. But you try your best anyway, which is good.” 

Erwin does worry about it, resentment and guilt eating away in the pit of his stomach, its rotting hands twisting at his insides whenever he needs help. It grows each time, a constant reminder that he can’t be the father he should be, one that Luisa deserves. 

“God damn it,” he mutters one night, scolding himself for swearing in the nursery. He stands at the changing table, one hand struggling to undo the snaps of Luisa’s pajamas, her tiny limps wriggling out of his grasp, whimpers growing into shrill shrieking at the discomfort in her diaper. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, chest aching as she belts out another wail, her tiny, pink face scrunched up as if in agony. But he keeps going, unwilling to call the others from bed. 

The door creaks behind him, Hange’s head peaking into the room, tired eyes wide in a look of almost fearful confusion. She pushes forward, disregarding Erwin’s protests.

“Is she okay?” Hange says, running to Erwin’s side. “She’s never cried this loud before.”  
Her words a sledgehammer to his chest, knocking the wind out of him, and he has to use all his strength to make sure he doesn’t keel over, forcing a sob back down his throat. Hange reaches forward, shushing the infant on the table, it’s cries subduing at the sound of her mother’s voice. Her hands move to rub the baby’s belly soothingly, calming her down before moving to even out her clothes.

“No,” Erwin stammers, his hand swatting Hange’s out of the way. He focuses on opening the snaps on Luisa’s pajamas, undoing them one by one at a snail’s pace. “Go back to bed. Let me do it.”

“You’re joking, Erwin,” Hange smirks, pushing her way back in front of the changing table. Her hands work open Luisa’s pajamas quickly, almost halfway through removing the mess of her diaper. “You need two hands to do it, you know that.”

“I said let me do it,” he says, anger bubbling in his stomach. He swats her hands away again.

“At least let me help you,” Hange says, her voice indignant. 

“I said no,” Erwin snaps. Luisa yelps from her spot on the table, arms flailing and the startling noise. His throats burns, his hand shaking as Hange stares at him, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“I said I could do it,” Erwin stutters, his voice thick. He’s lying, and he knows it, vision blurring as he lets Hange gently push him away from the changing table. He stares at her back, watches as her hands move through the motions almost solemnly, her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Feet shuffle their way down the hall, the door to the nursery creaking open as a shock of raven hair pokes out from behind the door.

“The fuck is going on?” Levi murmurs, voice thick with sleep, eyes squinting through the dim lighting of the room. 

“Everything’s fine,” Hange mutters, lifting the baby to her chest, swaying as she paces across the room. Luisa coos against her breast, grasping at the fabric of Hange’s nightshirt. A dark spot of drool starts to spread where Luisa’s mouth presses on Hange’s shoulder. “Go back to bed. Take Erwin with you.”

Erwin follows Levi back to their room, Levi flopping unceremoniously onto the mattress, swearing under his breath when the bedframe knocks against the wall. He curls into the sheets almost instinctively, pulling Erwin along with him, short legs wrapping around Erwin’s as he settles into the bed. 

Levi is snoring within minutes, his head lying on Erwin’s chest, fingers digging into his worn shirt. Erwin is left staring up at the speckled ceiling, the faint outline of the circular light in the darkness staring down at him. He wants to snort with laughter as he thinks of the first time they had set foot in the house, Levi looking up at the light fixture, commenting on how it looked like a single, perfectly round tit, how it would stare at him and keep him up at night as it watched him from above. Instead, he feels tears prick their way into his eyes, throat burning in shame.

The door creaks as Hange enters the room, making her way back to bed. He feels her arm wind around his chest, her head fitting into the nook of his shoulder. Her cold toes brush against his, leg stubble scratching against each other under the sheets. She lies still, and he would have thought she were asleep is it weren’t for her fingers brushing against his shoulder soothingly, a soft comfort. He waits before speaking.

“I’m sorry,” Erwin chokes out, his voice barely permeating the heavy silence. A sob follows it, cracked and ragged, despite the effort he puts into forcing it down. Hange pushes closer, her hair tickling his face as she presses a kiss to his temple, shushing him. “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she whispers, her breath brushing over his neck. She heaves herself over him, legs straddling his waist, fingers running through his hair. She starts kissing his face, his skin welcoming each soft peck of the lips. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he sobs, a dam bursting under pressure. “I’ve been such a burden. I can’t do anything for you guys, I can’t cook or clean or drive. I can’t even change a fucking diaper without one of you. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not a burden,” she says, voicing wobbling. She lifts her head, a hand on each side of his face, brushing tears away with her thumbs. “You will never be a burden. We love you, we want you here, don’t ever forget that.”

“I can’t even pick up my own daughter,” he says. He feels Levi shift beside him, cursing incoherently, blearily asking what’s wrong. He pushes in closer in a feeble attempt at comfort. “I can’t even be a proper father to my daughter, oh god-”

Hange quiets him before he can continue, her face pressing against his as she pulls him close. He can feel tears on her cheeks. Levi wraps an arm around him, Hange moving so that they both have room to lie on Erwin’s chest, heads bouncing with his sobs.

He’s joined by static cries, crackling from the baby monitor on the dresser drawer. He forces himself to calm down, gulping down the next sob that threatens to escape his mouth. Levi stumbles out of bed, grumbling as his slippered feet drag down the hallway.

He returns with a squirming Luisa in hand, her tiny head cradled in the palm of Levi’s hand as he bounces her gently, looking down at her with unrestrained awe. He gestures for Erwin to sit up, Hange nudging him enough to get his head to rest on the headboard.

He fits Luisa into the crook of Erwin’s elbow. Despite the guilt twisting in Erwin’s chest, he can’t help but feel a wave of adoration when he looks down at her, lips curling in and out as her dimpled fingers reach out, grasping carelessly as tiny coos escape her mouth. 

“She loves you, Erwin,” one of them whispers, too quiet to know whom it’s coming from. The pain seems to flood out of his body, only leaving a dull, drained ache of tiredness. “Don’t forget that.”

He feels content in falling asleep then, his daughter cradled perfectly in his arm, head lolling to the side. He hears one of them snort with quiet laughter, easing Luisa out of his grip. He drifts into unconsciousness with words of love and reassurance whispered in his ears.

“Mornin,’” he mumbles the next day, stumbling as he follows the scent of eggs into the kitchen. His lips twitch up in a feeble attempt at a grin as his eyes meet the other two’s, the dark rings under their eyes matching his own. 

“Good morning,” Hange sings, flashing Erwin a grin over the stove. She starts to walk towards the hallway, patting his chest as she squeezes past. “Watch the stove for me.”

Erwin flops into one of the kitchen chairs, watching as Levi burps a fidgeting Luisa. Erwin adjusts the towel on Levi’s shoulder, letting it drape over Levi’s back.

“I thought she told you to watch the stove,” Levi says, peering at him over the thin wisps of Luisa’s curls.

“I am,” Erwin says. He leans over to press a kiss to both their cheeks. Levi’s stubble scratches at his lips. “I’m watching it from afar.”

“Bullshit,” Levi snorts. Erwin is about to scold him for swearing before he speaks again. “I swear to god, you two would end up burning down this kitchen without me.”

“I’m sure we would all be hopelessly lost without you, Levi,” Erwin chuckles. Luisa burps, spit up dribbling down her chin, and Erwin reaches forward to wipe it off with the towel. “Where did Hange go, anyway?”

“I don’t know. She told me she had an idea after last night,” Levi says hesitantly, as though his words were dismantling a bomb, afraid of whatever reaction Erwin would show at the slightest slip of the tongue. “Something that would help you with this gross little thing.”

His next words are cut short as Hange scampers into the kitchen, something like a scarf wrapped around her arms, a smile plastered over her face.  
“Scoot forward,” she tells Erwin, moving him away from the backrest, leaving his butt perched at the very edge of the chair.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing?” Erwin asks, watching as Hange starts to wrap the thick sheet around him.

“You’ll see,” Hange says, winding it over his stump, under where his armpit would be, around his back and his chest. She leaves one section loose, hanging over the front of his chest like a sash, straightening out to look at him. She gives him a onceover, brow furrowed as she assesses the job she’s done, nodding when she feels confident with her work. 

She turns to Levi. “Hand her to me.”

“What are you going to do,” Levi says, holding the baby closer to his chest.

“You honestly think I would hurt her. What kind of mother do you take my for?”

“It’s not like I can help being wary of your experiments.”

“Oh yeah?” Hange says, her eyebrows rising high enough to disappear behind her bangs. “When have my experiments ended in disaster?”

“You say that like we didn’t need a new stove after your Parmesan chicken.”

“It was a new recipe,” Hange grumbles, almost prying the infant from Levi’s grasp, Luisa letting out a few grunts at the sudden change. “It’s not like I’m playing with fire.”

She kneels in fronts of Erwin, placing Luisa into the embrace of the sash across his chest, her head pointing towards his stump. He holds one arm under her for support as Hange moves around him, tightening the knots around his body, leaving Luisa cradled snugly across his chest. 

“I thought that an old sheet would be a useful makeshift sling,” Hange says. “You might not be able to change a diaper, but at least you could carry her and have a free arm at the same time. You could probably feed her like that, too.”

He feels tears prick in his eyes, his arm grabbing hold of Hange’s wrist as he pulls her forward, pulling her down to kiss her. She hums against his lips, Luisa cooing as they press around her.

“Thank you,” Erwin says, his one arm winding its way around the baby wrapped up against his chest, one finger pushing into the soft grip of Luisa’s fist. 

They don’t realize the eggs are burning until the fire alarm goes off.

“This is why we don’t let you fucking cook, Hange,” Erwin hears Levi yell from the kitchen. He watches Hange fan the smoke away from the alarm with a kitchen towel, laughing as he rocks a screaming Luisa in her new sling, soothing her shrill cries.

The alarm stops, replaced by the sound of Levi and Hange’s bickering. Luisa calms down in his arm, shoving a fist into her mouth as she looks up at Erwin with dark, watery eyes, snuggling into the warmth of his chest.

“You’re a blessing,” Erwin murmurs, smiling down at the bundle pressed against him. He makes his way into the kitchen, chuckling as he watches the argument unfold in front of him, bracing himself for the inevitable chaos. “I don’t think I would survive living with these two without you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason Hange is cooking is because none of them are getting any sleep. You don't think properly running on low sleep.


	5. Falling Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter so far.

Erwin’s sitting at the dining room table, Luisa sitting on his lap when he hears the front door creak open, followed by flop of bags being thrown onto the hallway floor as Hange stumbles in. She walks in with her boots still on, leaving wet marks across the floor he knows Levi is going to bitch about later, crossing her arms as she slumps against the doorframe. Her brow is creased, staring at the two of them with exhaustion in her eyes. 

“Is everything okay?” Erwin asks, shifting in his chair to get closer, and Luisa looks up from her work on the table, her head darting between the two of them.

“Long day at work,” Hange sighs, the corners of her mouth turning up in a small, weary smile. She walks toward them, the black combat boots marking up the carpet as she leans forward to look at the paper sitting in front of the two of them. “What are you two doing?”

“We’re writing,” Luisa lisps. She turns back to her paper intently, picking the pencil up in her fist.

Erwin watches as Hange’s smile grows, turning into a grin. “Is Papa helping you?”

“Yes, I am,” Erwin answers, his one hand cradling Luisa’s fist, adjusting her hand around the pencil. “Thank god she’s left handed.”

“Too bad you’re not,” Hange snorts. Her lips press against his temple. Her arms wind their way around his shoulder from behind to hug him. “I think her writing is better than yours.”

Erwin snorts, looking down at the messy scrawl on the paper, the letters of Luisa’s name shakily written largely and almost illegible. “Are you saying our daughter’s handwriting is bad?”

“Of course not,” Hange says, leaning down to kiss Luisa’s dark curls. “She has very beautiful handwriting and it’s only going to get better, right?” She presses a kiss to Luisa’s cheek, blowing raspberries as her hands find their way to her stomach. Luisa squeals with laughter, and she almost falls of Erwin’s lap as she tries to scurry away from her mother. Erwin can’t help but laugh along with them, hefting the two of them onto the floor as Hange follows suit.

They’re interrupted by a shadow looming over them, the two of them looking up to see Levi staring down at them, flowery apron still hanging around his neck. He turns to Hange, a scowl growing on his face as he eyes her boots.

“Why are you wearing your shoes on the carpet?”

“Because I’m lazy,” Hange says. Erwin snorts. At least she’s being honest.

“Well I’m not cleaning the rug,” Levi says. He looks down the hallway, his eyes tracing the path of wet boot marks streaking the tiles. “And I’m not wiping down the floor either.”

“Aw, Levi,” Hange pouts, lifting herself off the floor. She wraps her arms around him as he turns around, kissing his neck. “You know what happened last time I tried to clean the stains off our last carpet.”

“I don’t care. You’re cleaning it up.”

“At least help me with it?” Hange asks. Erwin hears her kiss Levi’s neck, Levi turning around in her arms to tug her bun gently, pecking her lips.

“Wipe the water off the hallway floor and change out of your uniform,” he says. He leans down to the floor, scooping Luisa out of Erwin’s arms. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Erwin follows Levi into the kitchen, the sound of the stove fan whirring through the air, the pleasant smell of food slamming into him. Levi plops Luisa down into one of the chairs, her feet dangling from the cushions, helping her see above the table. He moves back to the stove, turning the dials down, lifting the pots from the burners and onto the counter. 

“You need any help?” Erwin asks, leaning in to see over the pot. Vegetables and beef mingle together in broth, hot steam burning his eyes.

“Help me get the plates,” Levi says. He grabs some plastic Ikea cups from one of the cupboards, placing them in front of Luisa. She takes them, stretching across the table to lay one at each place setting.

Erwin complies, lifting a stack of plates from the cupboards, setting them around the table. Levi follows with the cutlery, arranging them precisely on folded napkins, the two of them circling around the table to straighten everything out.

Levi’s already serving the food when Hange enters the kitchen, her uniform replaced with colourful pajamas, her hair released from the stiff bun and hanging in her usual messy ponytail. She plops down in the seat beside Luisa.

“Looks good,” Hange says. She looks over to Luisa, one hand moving to run through her daughter’s locks. “Dad made your favourite today.”

“She deserves it,” Levi says. “Are you going to tell your mom what happened at school today?”

Luisa stops with her spoon hanging out of her mouth, stew dripping from the corner of her lips. “I’m gonna be in a play,” she stutters, her words jumbled through her full mouth.

“That’s wonderful!” Hange exclaims, wrapping an arm around her daughter. Luisa giggles, the food on her cheek staining Hange’s breast. “What’s the play about?”

“It’s The Three Little Pigs,” Erwin chuckles. “She’s going to be the Big Bad Wolf.”

“It suits her,” Levi grumbles, reaching over the table to hand Hange a napkin, “considering how messy she gets. I wonder where she gets that from.”

Hange snorts, taking the napkin gratefully. The stew ended up dripping onto the front of Luisa’s clothes, her spoon left haphazardly on her lap. Hange licks a corner of the serviette, dabbing at the front of Luisa’s shirt and scrubbing at her cheeks.

The dinner table falls into silence, the occasional slurp or scrape of spoons against plates sounding from one of them. Erwin watches Hange, her usual grin absent, her head leaning on her hand as she solemnly stares into the broth in front of her. She doesn’t eat, only stirs her spoon through the stew, chunks of food swirling around her plate.

“You stayed late at work today.” Erwin breaks the silence. Hange’s head pops up in alarm, Erwin’s words pulling her out of her stupor.

“What do you mean?” Hange stammers, her movements jittery. Erwin looks at Levi, his brow furrowed in concern.

“You don’t seem like yourself,” Erwin tells her. “Did something happen at work that we don’t know about?”

“Oh,” Hange starts. She looks down at her food, avoiding the eyes of everyone at the table. “It’s nothing. Zackly just wanted to talk to me.”

“You sure?” 

“It’s nothing,” Hange insists. She gets up from her chair, taking her still full plate with her. She dumps her leftovers into a Tupperware, dropping her dish into the sink with a clang. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Talk about what?” Luisa inquires innocently, her eyes wide with curiosity. She’s almost abandoned her spoon, her hands covered in broth, cheeks splattered with brown stains.

Her words seem to strike Hange harshly, her words coming out stuttered. Instead of answering, she makes her way back to the table, kneeling beside her daughter.

“You’re such a messy girl,” Hange says. She licks her fingers, rubbing them over the stains on Luisa’s cheek, who protests with a grimace. “If you finish eating we can go see how the plants are doing in the garden.”

“F-heck no,” Levi interrupts. “You’re not going out there right after it rains. You’ve already stained the floor enough with your boots.”

“Oh, lighten up, Levi,” Hange says. “We won’t make a mess. We just need to see how big they’ve grown today.”

Hange starts to make her way around the table, stacking the now empty dishes on the counter. She scurries out of the kitchen with Luisa clinging to her leg, their voices echoing from the hallway as they start gathering their gardening gear, Hange running up and down the stairs looking for the growth charts. Erwin and Levi tend to the dirty dishes, staring out the glass door into the backyard, watching their two girls look over the garden pots.

“You wouldn’t think a four year old would be so interested in plants,” Erwin says. He starts stacking the plates into one of the racks by the sink, taking them as Levi passes them to him.

“Too bad they couldn’t have chosen a less disgusting hobby,” Levi grumbles. He passes Erwin another dish.

“They’re having fun,” Erwin says, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches them outside. “I think it’s good for her. I think it’s good for our family.”

They slowly drift into silence, building a rhythm of passing plates between them. The word family still sticks in his throat sometimes, a reminder of how close he was to losing the people he had in front of him. To say he was grateful he had lost nothing more than an arm would be an understatement.

“You noticed it too,” Levi says suddenly, disturbing the peace that had settled around them.

“Noticed what.”

“Hange,” he clarifies. “She’s been acting strange today.”

“Hm,” Erwin muses, looking out into the backyard. The two outside had taken to wrestling in the grass, Levi staring out at them with a look of disgust. “If something happened, she’ll tell us eventually.”

They leave the plates to dry, making their way into the living room. They spend the evening sprawled against the couch, Levi tucked into the groove of Erwin’s shoulder. Hange and Luisa make their way straight to the bathtub once they get inside, Levi barely getting up from his seat to scold them before they scurry upstairs in all their muddy glory.

Erwin can see the moon rising through the living room window when the two of them come back downstairs again, Luisa clad in fluffy blue pajamas, tripping over the massive cat slippers on her feet. One fist rubs at her eyes, her mouth growing wide in a yawn.

“She wanted to come down to say goodnight,” Hange says.

“I do not,” Luisa mumbles. She lets go of her mother’s hand, running forward to jump on her fathers on the couch. Levi takes most of the impact, grunting as she lands on his stomach. He scoops her up, wrapping his arms around her. She settles her head under his chin as he leans down to kiss her hair, damp from her bath.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Levi murmurs gently, one hand brushing over her head. She shakes her head sleepily.

“I’m not going to bed until you guys go to bed.”

“When you’re older you can stay up with us,” Levi says. “You need to get your rest if you want to grow up big and strong.”

“No.”

“I’ll read you a story if you go to bed.”

“Nuh-uh.” She shakes her head as she says it. “I don’t like it when you read the story.”

“Excuse me?” Levi asks. He looks down at her incredulously, and Erwin can’t help but see a hint of hurt in his eyes. He snorts quietly. 

“You don’t do the voices like Mommy does,” Luisa tells him, “and I have to flip the pages by myself when Papa does it.”

It’s Hange’s turn to snort then, loud and obnoxious. 

“If I read you a story will you go to bed?” Hange asks. 

“Only if you guys go to bed, too,” she says. 

“Stubborn as always,” Hange sighs. “You guys heard her, everyone upstairs.” She leans down to lift Luisa off of Levi’s chest. She kisses each of their cheeks before leaving the living room, winking at them. They can always use the television in their room.

They follow Hange up the stairs, Erwin turning into the master bedroom with Levi on his heels. He starts to rummage through the drawers, picking out an undershirt to wear to bed. It takes all his effort to wiggle out of his own shirt, getting tangled as he tries to put on his nightclothes. He almost trips, bumping into the dresser drawer, and hears something fall over.

“Tch.” He hears Levi make his way across the room, his hands pulling on Erwin’s shirt until it slides over his head. The first thing he sees is Levi staring up at him.

“You’re incredible,” he says, and Erwin can’t tell is he’s being sarcastic or sincere. But he leans up, pressing a soft kiss to Erwin’s mouth before turning back to the dresser drawer.

He had knocked over one of the picture frames, one in a set of three. He sets it upright again, Hange standing confidently, almost regally in her ceremonial army dress. Erwin and Levi’s portrait border her own, the three of them on black background, uniforms ironed impeccably and every medal straight and gleaming.

The two of them slump into bed, Erwin turning on the small television on the dresser, turning it low enough so that he can still hear giggles from down the hall. Levi presses next to him, his head lying on Erwin’s chest. 

Erwin’s falling asleep by the time the voices down the hall quiet down, the buzzing of the television the only thing permeating the silence of the house. Despite the silence from down the hall, Hange doesn’t appear in the bedroom doorway, nor does he hear her make her way through the house.

He gets up to investigate, Levi cussing at him quietly for leaving him. He shuffles down the corridor quietly, peeking through the crack in Luisa’s bedroom door.  
His daughter is fast asleep, buried in a mountain of quilts, her nightlight flickering in the corner. Hange lies beside her on the small twin bed, her back to the door, her hand brushing out the outlines of Luisa’s face lovingly. Erwin thinks he sees her shoulders tremble.

He hears a sob.

He slowly enters the room, the door creaking. Hange jumps, turning to see the culprit, furiously wiping tears from her face. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should have come to bed.”

“Shh.” Erwin quiets her, wrapping his arm around her, leading her out of the room. “Don’t wake her up.”

Hange buries her face into his chest, her shoulders shaking violently as she tries to keep her quiet sobs from coming out. He leads her toward their room.

Levi sits up in bed the minute he sees the two of them walk in, his eyebrows drawing together. He gets up, walking towards them, a hand moving to rest on Hange’s shoulder.

“What’s going on,” he murmurs, his hand moving its way in circles over Hange’s back. He moves a hand to brush the hair away from her face. She has her lips pressed together, her chin trembling with each small gasp, tears streaming their way down her cheeks. 

Levi looks at Erwin, a cue for him to tell him what happened. Erwin just shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders as he wraps his arm farther around Hange’s shoulders, lowering his head to press her lips against her hair. He slowly leads her to the mattress, her face never leaving his chest as the three of them lean against the headboard, Levi pressing gentle kisses to her temple from behind.

She raises her head from his chest at last, her eyes and nose red and swollen, her face wet with tears. Erwin sits up, cradling her cheek with his hand, his thumb rubbing the moisture from her face, Levi pulling the bed sheets over her shoulders. She gives them a shaky smile that quickly dies, her chin trembling again.

“Hey,” Erwin says. Levi places his chin on Hange’s shoulder, watching Erwin solemnly. “We’re right here. You can tell us what’s going on.”

Hange takes a deep breath, sucking her lower lip between her teeth. Wrinkles line her face, the circles under her eyes making her look as if she’s aged ten years in a day. She looks to the muted television, then at Levi, then down at the sheets before opening her mouth again. 

“They’re sending me to Afghanistan.” 

Her words are dry, emotionless, but they strike Erwin like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him, making his stomach twist in painful knots. Levi’s eyes widen his shock and horror, his head darting between the two of them.

Erwin swallows the lump forming in his throat, his heart starting to thump in his chest. He shakes his head. “You can’t.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” she groans. Her face crumples, her hands moving up to cover her face. She doesn’t sob, just sits slouched over herself, her breath hissing violently behind her hands.

“They can’t make her go,” Erwin says to himself. Levi looks at him with tired eyes, one hand moving to hold Hange’s shoulder in a meager gesture of comfort. “They won’t let spouses go if their partner has already been deployed before.” It’s an irrelevant excuse and he knows it, Levi shaking his head, his arms wrapping their way around Hange’s waist.

“We’re not legally married,” Hange says quietly, her face still hidden.

“They’re not going to do anything about it,” Levi says. “They’re not going to keep her here just because of one of us.”

“We should be able to fight it.” Erwin’s voice starts to shake, his vision blurring. “They can’t.”

“They need medics, Erwin,” Hange interrupts, voice thick. Her face finally appears from behind her hands. “I can’t fight it. It wouldn’t be right.”

She leans forward, her head pressing into Erwin’s chest. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pressing his nose into her hair. Tears sting in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. Her hands dig into his shirt, and he pulls her closer, swaying back and forth. 

“Don’t apologize,” he says. He moves to lie down, taking Hange with him, Levi following suit. They prop her head underneath her pillow, brushing the hair from her face, pulling the sheets up around her chin. “We’ll get through this. We always have.”

They spend the night propped up against the headboard, Hange curled up in between them, staring absentmindedly at the flickering television. It outlines the contours of their faces in the darkness, the changing colours casting each of their profiles in different designs. The light starts to burn in Erwin’s eyes, the quiet buzzing starting to lull him to sleep.

He’s nudged awake before he can drift into unconsciousness. Hange peers up at him with sad eyes by his side, one hand reaching over him.

“If you’re falling asleep, we’ll turn off the TV.” Her hand pads the mattress by his hand, poking at his arm. It takes him a minute to realize she’s trying to get the remote.

“Yeah,” Erwin mumbles. He hands it over to her, settling back into the sheets.

Hange gets up, leaving a cold gap between the two of them as she makes her way towards the dresser, placing the remote by the big box of the television. She stops for a minute, glancing at the portraits of the three of them standing erect in the corner. She reaches for her own, slowly placing it face down, leaving her uniform-clad self staring regally at the wooden surface of the drawer with a soft clack.

She turns the television off with another click, plunging their room into darkness. He feels her shuffle back across the mattress, the cushions sinking deeper where she crawls, her warmth welcomed back between the two men graciously. Erwin turns towards her, tucking her head under his chin, his arm pulling her flush against his body. Levi’s arms follow suit, and he feels one stir under their pillows, brushing through their hair. Hange sinks deeper into their arms, her hands clinging to them in almost desperation as she curls up in the cocoon of bodies around her.

Erwin doesn’t let go of her for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder they're all in the military.
> 
> I was really conflicted when I was thinking of what part of the military the three of them would be in. I always imagined Hange as something like a medical specialist, so she would get to choose what section she would want to be in. Plus, I think Levi would be too short to fly a fighter jet. So I just put the three of them in the army (plus, being in the same denomination ensures spouses can usually stay together at the same base. So that's good)


	6. Rest

Hange sits in silence.

She lies with her back against the wooden headboard of Luisa’s bed, feet dangling off the end of the too short mattress, the orange quilts soft and fluffy under the palm of her hand. She stares absentmindedly at the ceiling, the small, beady lights sticking out from the metal flowers on the hanging chandelier burning in her eyes. Her arm, wrapped around Luisa’s body, rises and falls rhythmically, her daughter’s head tucked into the crook of her armpit. Her hands move to close the book in her hand, the spine crackling as the blue binding bends in her grasp.

“Why’d y’stop reading?” The voice is small and tired at her side, the slurred words drawn out in a yawn. Hange chuckles lightly, one hand moving to brush through Luisa’s curls. “Read th’next one.”

“I think it’s time you go to sleep,” Hange murmurs softly. A smile graces her lips as she looks down at her daughter, half-asleep and curled protectively in her arms. “We all have to get up early tomorrow.”

“Jus’ one more,” Luisa begs, looking up at Hange with heavy-lidded eyes, snuggling against her mother’s chest.

“Just one more,” Hange repeats to herself, opening the book in her hands again, a small yay sounding from Luisa at her side. “Which one do you want me to read?”

“Tell the one with Babbity,” Luisa mumbles, pulling the sheets under her chin as she rests her head on Hange’s stomach, looking at the pages expectantly. 

Hange turns to the story with a sigh, flipping through the pages slowly. She starts to dictate the words on the page, her voice barely loud enough to break the quiet nighttime din of the house. Even in their mutual fatigue, Hange still musters up the enthusiasm to tell the story properly, her voice taking on as much excitement and wonder as she can manage in her anxious haze. 

Luisa’s breathing evens out by her side, and Hange assumes she’s finally fallen asleep. She closes the book, swinging her legs off the side of the bed to get up.

“Mum?”

“Yes, sweetie?” Hange sighs. She starts to push the sheets into the corners of the mattress, safely tucking Luisa into bed. 

“Is the story over?”

“Yes, it is. You said one more story. Now it’s time for bed.”

“Oh,” Luisa says dejectedly, burying herself deeper into the bed. “We can’t read another?”

“No, we can’t,” Hange says. “We both have to get enough sleep for tomorrow.”

Hange straightens up, leaning down to kiss Luisa on the forehead. Luisa speaks just as Hange is making her way out the door, her hand halting midway to the light switch on the wall.

“Mum?” Luisa squeaks.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Who ‘s gonna read me bedtime stories when you’re gone?”

Hange’s hand falls, flopping against her side. She turns around, her vision blurring as she watches Luisa stare at her from the bed. She shuffles her way dejectedly back to the bed, the mattress sinking under her weight as she sits by Luisa’s feet.

“Dad or Papa are going to have to read your stories when I leave,” Hange says, her voice thick. One hand moves to cup Luisa’s cheek, her thumb brushing against the soft skin of her cheek.

“Okay,” Luisa says. “Will you tell them to do the voices so they’re less boring?”

“Yes,” Hange laughs. “I’ll make sure to remind them.”

“Good,” Luisa says. “Make sure you show them how. You’re good at it.”

“I will,” Hange says, “just for you.”

“Mum?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“How long are you going to be gone?” The question comes out as a yawn, one fist emerging from under the sheets to rub at her eyes. Hange feels her breath get stuck in her throat, her stomach twisting.

“I don’t know,” Hange says. Her voice is slow and quiet in an attempt to make sure Luisa understands what she’s saying. “I might be gone for a very long time.”

“What are you going to be doing?” Luisa asks, her brow furrowing.

“Well,” Hange starts, “my boss gave me a very important job to do. I’m going to be helping people who are sick and hurt get better.”

“Why can’t you stay here and do it?”

Hange sighs, brushing a hand through her hair. “There are a lot of people who are fighting where I’m going, and a lot of people who are getting hurt because of it. But there aren’t enough people there that can help people get better right now. I need to go and make sure I can help them as much as I can.”

“Oh,” Luisa says. Hange can see her exhaustion catching up to her, her grey eyes threatening to flutter shut. Luisa yawns again, stubbornly forcing herself to stay awake just a little longer. “You’re going to come back though, right? You’re not going to forget about us.”

Hange feels her chest constrict, her breath coming out of her in a shaky, small gasp, as if she had just belly flopped into a pool of freezing water. She chokes down the lump in her throat, fighting the stubbornness of her frown, forcing the corners of her mouth up in a shaky smile. 

“You and your fathers are the most important people in my life,” Hange says. She cups Luisa’s face with both hands, one brushing through her black curls. She leans forward, placing her lips against Luisa’s forehead, whispering against her skin. “I would never forget about you guys. I’ll be thinking of you guys every day while I’m gone, and I am going to try my very hardest to come back to you guys safe and sound.”

“You better,” Luisa mumbles, her eyes closing, unable to fight back the urge to sleep any longer. “I’ll think ‘bout’chu, too.”

“I know you will. I love you,” Hange smiles. Luisa gives a muffled murmur in response, unintelligible against her pillow. Hange gets up from her spot, the bed squeaking slightly as it adjusts to the change in weight. Flicking off the light, she takes hold of the door handle, the door groaning shut behind her.

Hange emerges into the dim lighting of the dark hallway, the cold air such a sudden change from the warmth of the bedrooms it makes goose bumps rise in her skin. She looks over the upstairs banister, light shining across the tile floor from the rooms off the downstairs foyer, the sound of shuffling feet and squeaking cupboards quietly drifting through the house. She starts to make her way down the corridor to her room, one hand brushing against the wall to guide her through the uncertain landscape of the dark hall. She narrowly avoids bumping into a laundry basket, her hand finally finding the cold metal of the doorknob.

Hange makes her way into the room silently, slipping through the crack in the door, closing it as quick as she had opened it. She keeps a hand in front of her as she makes her way through the darkness towards the bed, feet moving in slow, small steps to avoid tripping on any clothes strewn over the floor. Her foot strikes something heavy by the wall, her ears recognizing the soft thud of the soles of her combat foots, already laid out for the next morning, shifting across wood. For a moment she wonders if she’ll have time to polish out the scuff in the morning, then laughs silently at herself. A scuffed boot is the least of her worries.

Her knee finally bumps into the corner of the bed. Haphazardly, she scrambles her way over the mattress, pulling the sheets down in order to crawl under them.

There’s a body already lying in the middle, still and unmoving, its weight creating a dip towards the middle of the mattress. Hange makes her way towards its soft snores, one hand reaching, touching what she thinks is a pectoral. Her hand moves over its chest, large and burly, shifting towards the shoulder. The fabric under her palm goes limp as the limb cuts short, nothing but a stump with a short shirtsleeve hanging off of it. With that her thoughts are confirmed; she knows it’s Erwin lying beside her.

She swings one leg over his stomach, shifting so she can lie down on top of him. She nuzzles her head under his chin, her head rising and falling with his snores, inhaling the faint smell of his fading cologne. Her arms wind their way under his neck, burying them underneath the pillow.

“Did I wake you up?” she murmurs, feeling his arm wind around her shoulders, strong and warm. She snuggles closer, relishing in his comfort.

“Don’t worry.” The words are whispered into her hair, his breath dancing over her scalp. She shivers, sighing as his arm hugs her closer. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“I’m guessing Levi’s downstairs?” Hange groans. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, but she’s not able to sleep yet; the butterflies in her chest and racing mind aren’t ready to let her. 

“He’s stress cleaning,” Erwin sighs. “Do you want to call him up?”

“No,” Hange murmurs, “let him tire himself out. He’ll come up eventually.”

Erwin sighs, his body moving beneath her. He loosens his grip on his arm, pulling the sheets up over the two of them. Hange relaxes under the safety of the blankets, sinking into Erwin’s embrace. She can feel his heart beating against her ear, rhythmic and soothing, his breathing starting to slow as sleep begins to pull him into unconsciousness. But her mind is still running in circles, uncertainties buzzing in the back of her head.

“Were you this nervous?” Hange asks, breaking the silence. She does it against her better judgment, wincing when she hears Erwin exhale, long and exasperated. “When you had to deploy.”

“You saw how I was before I left,” Erwin murmurs, his arm pulling her closer. “I was pretty jittery.”

“All those nervous shits you took,” Hange giggles to herself, her head shaking on top of Erwin’s chest as he gives a quiet laugh. “We had to get a new plunger.”

“You sound like Levi,” Erwin muses, “all the shit jokes.”

“I’m going to miss them,” Hange says. “The jokes, I mean.”

“There’ll be plenty of vulgar jokes where you’re going,” Erwin says. “There’s nothing more vulgar than military personnel. It’ll just be like home.”

“Just like home,” Hange repeats to herself. . “I really doubt it.” The lump in her throat grows bigger, her chest starting to heave. Her eyes start to sting, letting out a shaky breath as she tries in vain to keep the tears from falling

Erwin shushes her, his lips pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, her temple, the crown of her head, everywhere he can reach. His fingers brush through her hair, pulling the dark brown tendrils between her shoulders, moving downwards to trace patterns in her back before slowly trailing back up again to repeat the motion again. 

“What’s it like,” Hange chokes out, “being there in the middle of it all.” She regrets her words once she feels the arm around her stiffen, the hand on her back stopping abruptly. Erwin lets out a strangled sigh, his hand gripping the fabric of Hange’s nightshirt.

“It’s,” Erwin finally stutters out. Hange can see him wince in the darkness, his muscles rigid under her as he shifts, his hand releasing her to rub his face. “It’s, um, it’s-“

“Don’t” Hange murmurs. She lifts herself up to look at him, her hands moving to cup Erwin’s face. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to.”

“I’m fine,” he says, pulling her body to him again. His arm wraps around her in a vice grip, his trembling lips pressing against her temple. He holds her like a scared child holds a teddy bear, like a mother cradling a sick child, as if strengthening his hold would keep him from losing her. “It’s hell. It’s absolute hell. It’s a mess. The work you do there is already dubious a lot of the time, you watch a lot of people-“ 

He stops, his eyes squeezing shut, swallowing. “You lose a lot of good people out there.”

“Erwin, I’m sorry. You don’t have to keep going.” Hange says, stopping him for both their sakes. She pushes herself higher on his chest, their heads level with each other so she can press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Stubble prickles against her lips, the faint smell of aftershave lingering in her nose.

“It’s not a place I want to imagine you in,” he whispers. His arm is around her again, tight and strong, suffocating her with love and desperation. Something drops on her nose, small and wet, and she can see Erwin’s face crumbling in the darkness, feel his chest shake as he lets out a cracked sob as she realizes its one of his tears.

“Hey,” she says, her hands moving to cup his face, her lips pressing soft, slow kisses to his face. “I’m not dead yet. You can’t mourn for me until I’m dead in the ground.

“That better not be soon,” Erwin says. There is a hint of laughter in his voice, quickly drowned out in the sadness.

“You tried your best to make it back alive. It’s only fair that I return the favor.”

His arm squeezes her again, and she wraps her arms back under his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. Erwin turns towards her, their lips pressed together in a short, crooked kiss before he pulls the blankets over them again, settling into the mattress.

“We should get some rest,” he says finally, closing his eyes. His hand resumes the pattern on her back, brushing down her hair and over her spine. His hand moves slowly now, lethargic, sometimes stopping for a minute before continuing in its ministrations. Hange tries to give in to its calming pressure, timing her breathing which each stroke, almost forcing herself to give in to sleep, but no matter how heavy her eyelids feel, how much her head pounds and begs for rest, the nauseous feeling in her gut wins her over, dooming her to a night of restlessness.

Eventually the hand stops, coming to rest on the small of her back. Soft snores rumble in Erwin’s chest, his muscles going limp under her. She can’t help but watch him in his sleep, eyes tracing his pursed lips and furrowed brow, his neck or shoulder twitching sporadically as he dreams. He mumbles a few words, her name uttered almost incomprehensibly from his lips, jumbled in his incoherent thoughts.

She thinks it must be hours before she hears a cupboard slam, the jarring noise pulling her out of her reverie. The soft click of light switches sound from inside the house, and she hears feet shuffle their way up the stairs, the creak of the wooden floorboards getting louder as they approach the room.

She turns her head when she hears the doorknob turn, the door swinging open to reveal a short, stocky silhouette before clicking shut again, plunging the room back into darkness. Hange feels the mattress shift, extra weight tilting it to one side. The sheets are almost pulled completely off her body, rustling towards the other side of the bed.

“Blanket hog,” Hange mutters. She hears Levi’s grumbling by her side, hands creeping their way up her side to pull her closer.

Hange slips off Erwin’s chest, adjusting herself between the two bodies now sandwiching her in the middle. Strong arms wind their way around her waist, Levi pulling her flush against him. She’s enveloped by the smell of shampoo and artificial lemon as they press closer, legs winding around each other. His nose presses against her neck, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. 

“Is Erwin asleep?”

“Yeah,” Hange sighs. The arms strengthen their hold on her.

“He okay?”

“Not really,” Hange answers. “He’s trying.”

“Hm,” Levi mutters. He lifts his head, their noses inches away from each other. She stares at his dark outline in the pitch black, tries to force her eyes to adjust to the dark, wanting to see his face. “Are you okay?”

Hange sighs, feeling the pit in her stomach swell, her chest twisting in anxiety, her voice thick. 

“No.”

There’s a quiet pause before she feels herself being pulled, Levi’s hands strong and unyielding against her body. His fingers wind through her hair, pulling gently as he guides her head down towards his shoulder. She presses her lips to his collarbone, her hands encircling his abdomen, sneaking under his shirt. 

“Get some sleep,” Levi says. His lips press softly against her temple. “You’re going to need it.”

His words are her cue to finally settle into the sheets, the burning itch behind her eyes soothed as she finally shuts them, the heaviness of her eyelids soothed. She forces the thoughts in her head to stop spinning, urging every worst case scenario that could play out to stop running through her head like a flickering movie reel. She focuses on the warmth of the bodies surrounding her, counts the breaths wheezing out of Levi’s mouth. Yet, she seems to fight sleep every time it threatens to claim her, fighting like a tired swimmer treading vicious waves of the ocean, trying to keep her head above water.

She doesn’t want to sleep. Sleep means less time with her family, less time with the people she loves in the place she’s grown to joyously and proudly call home. Sleep means less time to drink in every moment and detail she can, less time to watch her daughter grow up, her husbands age and wrinkle by her side. Sleep means less time before loaded into a massive grey machine with a dozen other soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, hearts in the pits of their stomachs as they’re shipped off to a fight in a war, one that half the country doesn’t know why they’re fighting in it in the first place.

She knows by morning that she’s going to have to leave her home for something unknown, that she’ll be leaving her warm bed and her sleeping lovers behind and her child without the only mother she’s ever known. She knows that she’s being sent to a war ground of bombs and questionable morality, knows a barrage of sleepless nights are ahead of her, and that they certainly won’t be leaving when she returns, if she returns at all. 

It’s that thought that finally makes her give in to the pull, her limbs going limp and weak from treading water for so long, letting the waves wash over her head. Her mind slowly drifts off, and she feels herself sink into oblivion, hoping that she won’t regret wasting her last moments of peace in the few hours of rest she can manage. She doesn’t think she will.

She’s going to need it.


	7. Distance, Pt. 2

Erwin grows to loathe the sound of his Skype account chiming.

It’s not the connection he gains through it that he hates, or the relief of his anxiety constantly twisting in his gut at the uncertain, horrible possibilities that await Hange that he has reluctantly witnessed himself. Her face on his monitor is a brief weight off his shoulders, a momentary reassurance of her safety, one that he doesn’t take for granted. Rather, it’s the reminder of where she is that bites at him, another thing that gives him and Levi the stabbing feeling of loneliness he feels when he wakes to having part of their bed empty, to seeing her clothes hanging in her closet, unwrinkled and unworn. Its cheery tone seems to taunt him every time it chimes from his speaker, a malicious jeering that mocks his worry and pain. He wants nothing more than to smash them, replace it with Hange’s snorting laughter, unchanged by the crackle of his computer, sounding from beside him instead of miles away.

But when his Skype sounds after a week of nauseating silence, the knife of fear untwisting and relinquishing its grasp on him after days lodged deep in his gut, it is almost music to his ears.

His leg slams against the side of the mattress as he scrambles to answer the call, one of the only tripping hazards in the months after Hange’s departure, her clothes no longer strewn over the floor or across the furniture, the house painfully neat in her absence. His chest swells at the sight of her blurry picture on the screen, clicking answer with a hopeful smile starting to form on his face.

Her icon disappears as he clicks, her real and very alive form filling the screen, the plain, dirty walls of her barrack bunk behind her as her face fills the monitor. She no longer looks like the carefree person in her icon, devoid of her usual messiness and energy. Dark circles run under her eyes, lines aging her face, her usual rat’s nest of hair tied neatly back in an impeccably gelled bun.

“Erwin,” she sighs, her voice muffled through his speakers, the softest of smiles gracing her face, her expression lights up with relief.

“Hange,” Erwin says back, the only word able to float out of his mouth in his reprieve, his throat too tight to say anything else. He returns the smile, glad that she can still give one out as easily as she always has, but there was something off about her; an uneasy air seeming to pulse from her like a cloud. Instead of being a smile of joy, it seemed subdued and solemn, her eyes lacking their usual glimmer of energy, rather reflecting like what Erwin thought of as broken glass. “How have you been?”

“Tired,” Hange sighs heavily, rubbing the back of her neck, “busy, stressed. It never seems to end here.”

“It really doesn’t,” Erwin says, nodding his head. 

“Yeah,” Hange says, the words slow and laborious. She looks down at her lap, the gesture choppy on his screen. “I’m sorry about the communication blackout. It’s been a pretty hectic week.”

“Don’t apologize,” Erwin says. “It’s something you can’t help.”

“I know,” Hange says, breathing deeply, her eyes closed. “I just wish I could have been able to talk to you guys through the whole thing.”

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Erwin asks quietly. He watches Hange open her eyes again, tears glimmering in the corners of them. She props her head on her hand, slouching towards the screen.

“It’s not really stuff we can talk about on here,” Hange says. There’s a beat of silence, her eyes flitting back and forth in her head, licking her lips uneasily. “We lost some good people.”

“I know,” Erwin says. “There were a few rumors going around before we heard. I’m sorry Hange.”

“I just,” Hange says, her voice thick. She looks away from her camera, her face freezing on the monitor. He hears her give out a shaky breath, her voice wobbling when she starts to speak again. “I can’t help but feel like shit, I can’t help but feel like if I had just been a little faster I could have gotten to them in time-”

“Hange,” Erwin says, caution lacing his voice, “don’t beat yourself up about this. This stuff happens. You can’t blame yourself for something you can’t help.”

“But this is supposed to be something I can help!” Hange cries out, her voice cracking. Her face moves across the screen, glitches in her movement. “I’m the one who is supposed to be saving others’ asses out there, trying to at least help them survive, and I can’t even do that.” 

“You are doing that!” Erwin exclaims. “Sometimes there are circumstances we just can’t help.” His words have no effect, Hange refusing to give him any recognition. The screen unfreezes, and he’s faced with her forehead, her face tilted down, looking away from him.

“Half the people I’m trying to save,” Hange murmurs softly, followed by a sudden, sharp inhale, as though she were keeping her sobs from breaking through, “are the people we’re hurting ourselves.” She takes heavy breaths, and Erwin can’t tell if her hands are shaking from her anger or from the glitches on the screen. It pains him to see her so depressed, sucked dry of her optimism and vigor.

Erwin sighs, rubbing at his face. He sits silently in front of the flickering screen, his chest growing tight. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, and instead chooses against his own heart’s need to comfort Hange across the screen, staying quiet as he swallows down the lump in his throat. He scolds himself for it, for his inability to know what to say; he’s the one she’s reached out to, one of the only people she knows who survived her current hell. But he knows what the simple slip of the tongue can do, lived and regretted the rage and anger of a simple misunderstanding between someone who just wanted to lend a comforting hand, and he knows one word can be the breaking point between gentle encouragement and total breakdown.

“I don’t even know what we’re doing here anymore,” Hange mutters, finally breaking the heavy silence. “This whole thing is a mess.” 

“I don’t know what to say, Hange,” Erwin says. “I don’t know what I can say to help you.”

“Did it feel like this with you?”

Erwin exhales, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sometimes. It did feel hopeless, sometimes.”

“Hopeless,” Hange repeats, and the words sound eerie on her tongue, her eyes seeming to stare off into space. It sounds a shiver down Erwin’s spine, her eyes piercing even through the camera. He thinks back to the photo of her on the dresser drawer, her hopeful, strong smile still facedown on the polished wood, and wonders what had happened to the glimmer of promise now absent in her eyes, what extra hell she had seen that he didn’t that had etched the lines in her skin and aged the previously youthful face he had first set eyes on during their years in training.

“Hange,” Erwin says, “you with me?”

“Yeah,” she says, shifting in her seat, her movements lagging, pixels flashing onto the screen, obscuring her face. There seems to be a shift in her attitude, her chest puffing out, her shoulders square as she sits up on her chair. Her face seems to harden with resolve, managing the smallest of disingenuous smiles, seeming to inflate with the little drive she could still muster. “I’m okay.”

“Just a few more months,” Erwin presses. He takes her change as a good sign, sees her usual perseverance and grit, however small, still pumping through her even as hell batters her senseless. But he still feels uneasy, knowing she’s probably trying to fake her pain as a moment of weakness that she could easily recover from instead of something keeping her from sleeping at night. “You’ll be home with us again in a few more months. You’ll be done in the reserves, and we’ll help you settle in again, all three of us.”

His heart squeezes when he sees her smile grow, a small laugh choking out of her, tears blossoming in her eyes. He feels filled with relief, almost swollen with it, glad to see her smile even with the stress on her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she murmurs softly, “Let’s hope so.”

“We’re here waiting for you,” Erwin says, “and you will make it home. I know you will.”

“You’re right,” Hange says, her smile growing. “I just want to make sure you guy are okay over there.”

“You don’t have to be concerned about us,” Erwin laughs. “We’re doing just fine here. I’m more worried about you.”

“I don’t want you guys worrying about me, either,” Hange says with a small shake of the head. “I just hope everyone is doing alright. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Erwin starts, “it’s been pretty uneventful. Quiet as always, without you here.”

“Hm,” Hange grunts, the corners of her mouth twitching. “Must be nice to have some quiet. Tell Levi not to get to comfortable with it. I’m not going to be gone much longer.”

Erwin chuckles, shoulders bouncing. “I’ll make sure to tell him that.”

“How is he?” Hange asks.

“He’s okay,” Erwin sighs. “As okay as he can be. He’s been really on edge the past week.”

“Because I haven’t been responding?”

“Don’t think it’s your fault,” Erwin says. “It’s not like you can help it when they cut connections.”

“Still,” Hange says, looking down again. 

“He can’t help it,” Erwin says. “None of us can. I’m just relieved to know you’re okay.”

“Where is he now?” Hange asks, brow furrowing.

“He’s bringing Luisa to school,” Erwin says. 

“Oh,” Hange says. “I always seem to miss those two whenever I call. Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Erwin ponders. “He might be a while at the school, and I don’t know if he’s going straight to work from there.” He watches Hange’s face fall slightly, lips twisting into a small frown.

“I don’t think I’m going to have a lot of time,” Hange says, looking away from the screen.”

“Hey,” Erwin says, “don’t be upset. I’ll tell him you called, I’ll tell him you’re fine.”

“Tell him I love him,” Hange says, “and that I miss him.”

“Alright,” Erwin smirks, raising an eyebrow, a small laugh whooshing out of him. “Although I don’t know how he’ll respond to such blatant displays of affection.”

“You don’t have to tell him outright,” Hange says, a small grin on her face. Erwin can’t help but laugh, glad to see her smug attitude, the tears slowly clearing from her eyes, happy to be a welcome distraction to her pain. “Maybe go up behind him, kiss him on the neck where he likes it-“

“I think that would get him more flustered than the words themselves.”

“-and tell him I’ll kick his ass for not being here when I call.”

“Alright,” Erwin chuckles, “I’ll tell him that.”

“Seriously, how long does it take for someone to drop their kid off at school?” Hange asks, the smallest laugh spilling out of her.

“Well, I think the principal was a little concerned over Luisa’s recent behavior,” Erwin says. “Levi went to go talk to them.”

He watches as Hange’s face falls, the smile the two of them had worked so hard to build up while talking disappearing. Her eyes grow wide, her eyebrows coming together, deepening the lines on her forehead. When she does speak, her words are rushed and panicked.

“Is she okay?” Hange asks, her voice cracking. “Is it because I haven’t been home? How long has it been-?”

“Hange,” Erwin yelps, interrupting her. “She’s been coping perfectly fine. She’s still the same bright and energetic little monster she is. You talked to her last week.”

“Oh, good,” Hange sighs in relief, falling back in her chair, but the concern on her face is still persistent. “What happened, then?”

“Some small tussle between another student,” Erwin explains. “From what I’ve heard, the boy she had punched was teasing her about girls being weak.”

“Oh god,” Hange groans, leaning forward. She closes her eyes, the screen freezing as she pinches the bridge of her nose, leaving Erwin to stare at her exasperated face. He hears a snort of laughter through the speakers. “I want to scold her for it, but I can’t help but be proud.”

“Hard not to be,” Erwin says, watching the screen unfreeze, Hange’s motion stuttering across the monitor. “I think we know where she gets her rough and tumble attitude from.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Hange says. She gives him a smirk, sarcasm dripping from her words. “If she does get it from anyone, it’s from Levi.”

“Ah, you’re right,” Erwin says thoughtfully, “how can we forget?”

“Still,” Hange says, “I don’t want her to pick up the habit of hitting people she doesn’t agree with.”

“We’ve dealt with it,” Erwin assures. “I think Levi’s just trying to convince them not to pull her out of the play last minute.”

“Oh, they better not after all the work Levi put into her costume.”

“I don’t think they will,” Erwin says. “I doubt they’re going to be able to have the time to prepare another four year old for it in the next few weeks.”

“They better not,” Hange sighs. “I know she’s been looking forward to it for so long.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Erwin says. “They won’t risk pulling her out so close to the performance. Especially with how enthusiastic she is about it. It’s hard to say no to her when she’s in that costume.”

Hange breathes out a laugh, smiling sadly. “I wish I could have been there to see it.”

“We promised we would tape it for you,” Erwin say firmly. “I’ll find a way to send it to you there. I’ll make sure to catch every bit of it.”

“It’s still different, though,” Hange sighs. The corners of her mouth start to sink again, and Erwin frowns at her smile’s absence, clicking his teeth in disappointment at his inability to bring it back. “I want to be there to support her or cheer for her in the audience. I want her to know I’m there for her, but I can’t do it from here. I can’t help but feel like I’m missing so much of her life go by and that I won’t be able to get it back if I do come home.”

“I don’t know what to say, Hange,” Erwin says softly. “I know it feels like you’re missing so much, but I promise that when you get back – and you will come back-“ he reminds her as she opens her mouth to interrupt, speaking before she can, “we’re going to help you as much as we can to get caught up on everything. It takes a shit ton of time, and you know that. But I promise you we’re trying our best to still tell you everything we can.”

“I know you are,” Hange exclaims. “It’s Luisa I’m worried about. I’ve been gone so long already, I don’t want her to be upset or think I’m distant.”

“You have nothing to worry about with her,” Erwin says, a small chuckle etched in his voice. “If anything, she’s spent every day thinking of you with so much admiration. She loves you so much, Hange. She’s so eager to have you back.”

Laughter bubbles from Hange’s throat, her smile returning. “I hope so,” she says, her voice thick. “I just hope she doesn’t miss me too much.”

“It depends on the day,” Erwin says. “Or what bedtime story we read to her. No matter how hard we try, there are just some characters we cannot imitate properly.”

He watches Hange throw her head back in amusement, her laugh interrupted by the sound of something slamming. At first, Erwin gets up, thinking it was from his end, Levi’s name ready to fly from his lips. But then he sees Hange’s head whip to the side, looking outside of the screen, her eyes wide in surprise.

“Was that on your end?” Erwin asks, his eyebrows furrowing. Hange doesn’t answer immediately, her body almost half out of her chair, listening to the inaudible murmurs barely making their muffled way through the speakers.

“Just a second, Erwin,” Hange says, leaving him to stare at her empty desk chair. He raises the volume on his speakers, trying his best to make out the words being spoken off screen, but all he gets is unintelligible muttering. The voices are calm, though, and the room on the other side of the monitor seemed to be free of panic, giving him a reason to help calm his thumping heart.

He almost jumps when he sees Hange’s face drift back onto his screen, her head hanging sideways from above, loose strands of stiff, gelled hair falling to dangle from her scalp.

“I have to go,” she says, the wrinkles in her face deepening with her scowl. “Something came up, but everything is fine, so don’t worry.”

“Oh,” Erwin says, his stomach twisting, aching for just a little more time with her after so long without talking. Despite his yearning, he lets her go without complaint.

“I’ll see if I can call back later,” Hange says, shuffling around her desk, “just in case I can catch Levi at home.

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I’ll try my best,” Hange says. “Tell Levi and Luisa I called.”

“I will.”

“Give Levi that message for me,” Hange reminds him, “and don’t forget to give Luisa a big smooch and a hug from me, okay?”

“I will,” Erwin says, nodding. He manages a pained smile. 

“I love you, Erwin,” Hange says hurriedly. She presses her fingertips to her mouth, Erwin hearing her lips smack loudly through the speakers before she slowly extends her arm towards the camera.

“I love you, too,” Erwin breathes out, kissing his own hand, bringing it towards the little green dot above his monitor. He watches as her screen goes black, her fingers obscuring the camera’s lens as they press their hands to the screens. The click of her mouse is the last thing he hears before she ends the call, leaving him limp in his seat, anxiously waiting for the dreaded sound to chime from the computer again to signal her return.


	8. Curtain Call

Erwin sits awkwardly at the front edge of the audience, shifting uncomfortably in the chair he’s in, the bulk of his body almost too large to settle on the small seat given to them. The gymnasium is large and loud, murmurs and childish laughter echoing against the brick walls. The people behind him make a sea of parents with hopeful, giddy faces, raising their cameras above the heads in front of them, whispering to each other in hushed tones. In front of him, rows upon rows of children sit cross-legged on the gym tiles, leaving the crowd of the adults behind them to stare at the back of their heads and, for some, the cracks peaking out from above drooping pants. Teachers walk the edges of the walls, some waving cheerily to students in the crowd, others sending glares at them, holding a finger to their lips before pointing to the drawn curtains at the far wall, red cloth covering the stage behind.

Erwin looks down at his lap, fiddling with the video camera wedged between his thighs. He carefully presses the power button, prying the screen open from the side of the camera before picking it up. He is forced to hold it on the left side, his hand blocking the screen and his knuckles growing white with his grasp.

“Stupid camera,” Erwin mutters under his breath, jolting as it threatens to slip from his grip. He turns to his right, Levi flipping through the program left on their chairs. 

“Maybe we should have thought this out a little more,” Erwin chuckles nervously, feebly holding the camera up. Levi cocks an eyebrow, his eyes staring at the empty Velcro strap flopping on the right side of the camera before flicking up to look at him. 

“Maybe the fucking camera company should get their shit together,” Levi says, his voice loud enough to be heard over the murmurs of the people behind them. Erwin feels his ears go red, the people seated behind Levi gawking at him with wide eyes. “It’s not like the whole world is right-handed. I guess that basic knowledge just flew right over their heads.”

Erwin lets out a small laugh, dropping the camera back into his lap again. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to film it with this.”

“Do you want me to take out the other camera?” Levi asks. 

“I don’t think it’ll work either,” Erwin says. “All the buttons are on the right side. And it doesn’t have enough space to film the entire play.”

“Well I guess we’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it,” Levi says, turning back to the program. He flips the paper in his hand, analyzing the crude drawings on it with an expression of extreme concentration.

“Levi,” Erwin scolds. He reaches over to pull the sheet from his grasp, his fingers crumpling the fancy lettering printed on the front. Levi looks up at his indignantly, clicking his teeth.

“Hey,” Levi says, trying to snatch it back. Erwin extends his arm to the side, watching as Levi strains himself to get it, almost falling over his lap. “I was reading that.”

“And now you’re not.” Erwin settles against the hard backrest of the chair, a smug smile blooming on his face. “Unless you film it.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to hold the camera,” Levi complains, his head falling back, glaring frustratingly at the metal beams crisscrossing along the ceiling. 

“Why not?” Erwin asks, leaning in with a teasing smile. Levi pushes him away, his hand planted on Erwin’s cheek as he shoves him to the side.

“It’s impractical,” Levi groans. “You wouldn’t have someone my height filming something from the very back of the room.”

“We’re in the front row.”

“Still,” Levi says. “You said you were good doing it, I didn’t think I would have to.”

“You’re not even willing to do this for me? What about for Hange?”

“It’s not that I’m not willing,” Levi says, and even in his exasperated tone, Erwin can see the grin threatening to break his façade. “I just don’t want to do it.”

“Well I guess you’ll just have to suck it up and deal with it.”

There’s a wheeze of laughter behind them, followed by a sharp hiss, the man behind them crying indignantly in pain. Levi furrows his eyebrows, split between glaring daggers at Erwin and turning to see the source of the sound. It’s Erwin who decides to turn around, his eyes resting on a man with light brown hair curling over his undercut, muttering behind his hand as it rubs against his mouth. 

“You didn’t have to bloody kick me,” the man says to the woman beside him, who tucks her strawberry blonde hair behind her ears, crinkling her nose at him. 

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on people’s conversations,” the woman says, her hand rising to nudge at his shoulder; a small diamond glitters on her ring finger as she raises it, almost snagging against what Erwin assumed was her husband’s pinstriped button down.

“Oh, like you weren’t laughing,” the man responds, nudging her back. “Don’t try and act all innocent-“

He stops when his eyes meet Erwin’s, the couple’s mouths pressing into two thin, white lines. He watches the guy look down at his shoes, one hand rubbing the back of his neck, his wife’s cheeks blooming the slightest shade of pink in the dim lighting.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman stutters out, giving Erwin an apologetic smile. “I hope we didn’t bother you two.” 

“No worries,” Erwin says nonchalantly, waving his hand. “It’s always nice to know someone is a fan of my jokes.”

Levi scoffs beside him, rolling his eyes. He turns to face the couple behind them reluctantly, his eyes scanning them. Erwin watches them squirm in their awkwardness, the woman laughing nervously.

“Erwin Smith,” Erwin says, his attempt to break the tension starting to form between them. He twists his body farther, extending his hand for one of them to take. “And this is my husband, Levi.”

“Petra,” the woman says softly. She lifts her right hand first, freezing in a moment of confusion before fixing herself, stumbling over her tongue as she gives him her other hand. It’s small in his, but her grip is much stronger and confident than he expected. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Auruo,” her husband says, giving Erwin’s hand a strong shake. He shifts his hand towards Levi, who tentatively extends his own hand for a brief handshake before turning back to face the front. 

“I’m guessing you have a certain someone you’re here to support?” Erwin asks, a small grin on his face. He watches the smile bloom on Petra’s face, her eyes set alight with something he’s recognized in Hange and Levi’s faces innumerable times, the look they get whenever Luisa makes their heart swell with pride.

“Our little Curtis is one of the pigs,” Petra says, nodding. “I’m so excited to see him.”

“He gets his talent from me,” Auruo says, leaning back in his chair, lifting one foot to rest on his opposite knee. Petra swats it down, rolling her eyes at him with a smirk. “My whole family was into theatre, all from when I was at a young age. They have me to thank for that.”

“No they don’t,” Petra says, rolling her eyes again, the constant circular motion almost dizzying.

“They do, in fact,” Auruo corrects. “If I hadn’t been so talented in so many plays they wouldn’t have picked up the interest.”

“Oh really?” Petra asks, raising her eyebrows. “Like when you were in your influential role as a bush?”

“I was a kid then.”

“You were thirteen.”

Erwin sees Levi’s shoulders shake, the smallest of grins tugging at the corners of his lips, soft wheezing coming from his mouth.

“Hey,” Auruo says, lines creasing his face. “I was an amazing bush. My lines were perfect.”

“Still a bush,” Petra smirks. Auruo slumps over, a scowl on his face, his arms crossing over his chest. Petra shakes her head in amusement, turning back to Erwin. “Who do you have in the play?”

“Our daughter, Luisa,” Erwin says. “She’s the wolf.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I’m sure she’s going to be amazing,” Petra exclaims.

“Luisa?” Auruo perks up, a glimmer of recognition lighting up his face. “I think I’ve heard the name in one of the classes.”

“Really?” Erwin says. His eyebrows tug together, and Levi gives his a nervous glance from the corner of his eye. His hand moves to touch Erwin’s, resting on his leg. “How would you know the students?”

“We’re part of the PTA,” Auruo says. “We see a lot of the littler kids around with their parents, or on trips. Now that I think about it, I think I remember talking with Levi before about her.”

Levi’s grip grows firmer on Erwin’s hand. “Did we?” Levi says, his lips settling in a thin line, his words lacking the glint of enthusiasm that Auruo’s had.

“Yeah, I think,” Auruo ponders, his hand rubbing at his chin again. “She’s the one with the black curls, right? Kind of hyperactive-“

“Auruo!”

“It’s not meant to be an insult,” Auruo exclaims, raising his hands in defense. “I’m sure you’ve seen her around the school bake sales. Always running around and giggling. Everyone loves her, anyway.”

“You shouldn’t comment on stuff like that,” Petra murmurs quietly. “Besides, I don’t think you’re thinking of the right student. I know who you’re talking about, I’ve talked to her mom before.”

Erwin and Levi share another glance, Erwin’s stomach twisting in gut. He swallows loudly, opening his mouth to speak; his chin ends up lolling open comically, no words forming and finding their way out. Even as he’s thinking of what to say, Auruo continues, stealing his chance to interject, him and Petra bickering.

“There’s only one Luisa in the kindergarten classes,” Auruo says firmly. “I remember going through the register for one of the field trips. I think I’d know who is in what class.”

“Well you obviously don’t,” Petra says, her eyes widening, the last word emphasized as she leans towards her husband. “I’ve talked with that Luisa’s mom before, we had a play date with Curtis.”

“Well whoever this mystery Luisa is, she can’t go to this school,” Auruo says. “And her mother obviously hasn’t been around for a while.”

“That’s because she went on military leave, Auruo,” Petra says, glaring at him. Erwin stiffens, turning back to face the stage. He feels Levi reach out, placing a hand tenderly on his stump before sliding off, flopping to his side. The conversation behind them stutters to a stop, their voices fading into nervous whispers, Petra hissing in a sigh of empathy. 

Levi sends Erwin a concerned look, eyes flicking to the couple behind him and back. Erwin gives Levi a small shake of the head, attempting a grin, hopefully putting his worrying mind at ease. He knows what uncomfortable conversation is going to bloom from it. He’s sure initiating the conversation itself would only aggravate the four of them, and doesn’t want to make mention of his empty sleeve or how it ended up that way in the first place. He also doesn’t want to explain how Hange’s departure adds an extra sting to the pain in his chest; not only because he doesn’t want to think of where she is, but also because he doesn’t want to have to explain his romantic situation to a couple of strangers, their suspicious and judgmental glances the last thing he wants to feel on the back of his head when his attention should be on his daughter.

The fading lights of the gymnasium give him and Levi a welcoming out, and they both straighten in their chairs, looking towards the front. While the murmuring crowd of parents behind him quiet down in eager anticipation, the children’s voices seem to swell and echo, reaching a crescendo as the room grows dark. It takes multiple shushes and one sharp, high whistle from the teachers to calm them down, the room quiet but for the occasional whisper or giggle.

The curtains on the far wall part, opening to reveal a generic painting of a field, the mural functioning as the permanent stage background. Someone he assumes is the principal walks onto the stage, heels clacking against wood floor. They start to speak, welcoming the crowd in front of them. Erwin takes the opportunity to slip the camera into Levi’s lap, along with the crumpled program.

He hears Levi click his tongue beside him, his head falling back dramatically as he shoots Erwin a glare. Erwin slips his hand into his pocket, shrugging his shoulders and widening his eyes innocently, a small smile blooming as he watches Levi slip the Velcro strap onto wrist.

“Asshole,” Levi whispers, drawing a chuckle from Erwin’s lips. He starts fiddling with the camera, lifting it to his chest, seeing if he was getting a good shot.

“Love you,” Erwin replies, leaning over to give Levi a chaste kiss to his temple. He straightens as he hears the audience’s applause, tapping his hand against his knee obediently with the crowd.

The lights on stage brighten, cheerful, plucky music filling the gym. One of the older kids shuffles onto the stage, his shirt slipping from its place tucked into his dress pants, crumpled cue cards trembling in his hands. His voice is loud for such a small body, but it still betrays his nervousness, his words shaking and stuttered in short blocks as he reads off his cards.

Erwin shoves Levi, who looks at him with in indignation. “Start filming,” Erwin whispers.

“She’s not even on stage yet,” Levi replies. “I don’t want to waste film.”

“Hange wanted us to film this,” Erwin murmurs, more forcefully this time. “Doesn’t matter if Luisa isn’t on yet, you better waste film for your wife.”

Levi breathes out a curse, muttering as he lifts the camera back up, a small beep sounding from his hands, the red light on the camera starting to flash. He wonders if the couple behind him heard what he said, but doesn’t bother to look back; the stage catches his complete and utter attention as a little girl with twists in her hair makes her way onstage with a cardboard straw house, a small pink pig’s snout secured to her nose with a string wrapped around her head. 

The curtains flutter by the other side of the stage, Erwin’s heart leaping in his chest when he sees Luisa shuffle on stage, wolf ears perched atop her head, whiskers painted onto her face. She stands straight but rigid, eyes wide as she looks into the audience, and Erwin thinks he’s never seen her more shy in his life.

The two of them lean forward in their seats, Erwin’s eyes meeting Luisa’s across the dark expanse of the gym. He watches her face light up, a smile pulling her mouth open, her body seeming to swell with confidence. She turns back to the child on the other side of the stage, planting her feet firmly into the floor as she takes a firm stance, taking a deep breath.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come iiiiiiiiinnnnnnnn!!!” Her bellowing voice echoes off the gym walls, loud and high pitched and entirely unnecessarily forceful, her usual energy seeming to erupt from her as she balls up her small fists, leaning forward to yell out her lines. Erwin can’t help but chuckle, and he feels Levi’s hand squeeze his knee, his own pride breaking his calm façade. The heated murmuring from the couple behind him is the last thing on his mind; in the end, it’s quickly shut down from someone in their row, a furious shush silencing them.

Soon the cardboard house is knocked over, and his daughter is chasing the other girl off the stage with her hands up and her teeth bared. The curtains are drawn closed for a minute, applause coming from the parents behind him, the children breaking into laughter and conversation that the teachers eventually contain. When the curtains open, there’s another cardboard house erect on the stage, the first girl dragging along a second one in an identical costume, the two of them peaking their heads through the cut out window.

The second pig that’s dragged on stage is short and timid, red curls falling into his face, freckles smattered across his terrified face. He looks out into the audience, twisting his hands in his overalls. Erwin hears a gasp behind him, a squeak of excitement and delight from the couple sitting there.

His daughter come stomping onto the stage again, a giddy smile still plastered to her face, and she braces herself for another one of her lines, screaming even louder than the first time; but when it’s time for the second pig to answer her call, he seems to sink into himself, eyes growing wide as saucers as the actors and the audience wait patiently for him to speak.

Erwin’s stomach sinks in horror as he watches the little boy’s face crumple, his fist moving to wipe the blooming tears from his eyes. There’s some laughter from the kids in front of him, the parents letting out sighs of sympathy. Luisa and the first pig look at each other in shock as one of the teacher’s shuffles the boy off the stage. Auruo curses behind him, the sound of chairs scraping against floor grinding in his ears, and from the corner of his eye Erwin sees him and Petra moving along the gym walls towards the stage doors. 

“Stop laughing,” Erwin hisses, knocking his knee against Levi’s. Levi only covers his mouth with his hand, soft wheezes sounding from his throat, trying to hide his shaking shoulders.

“Some talent he inherited,” Levi mutters, earning him a harder knock on his knee. He leans back in his chair, containing himself, steadying the camera in his grasp. The girl playing the first pig takes Curtis’ place on instinct, and Erwin feels a pang of surprise, impressed as she continues without a hitch, proud of a child he doesn’t even know the name of. 

Soon the second house is knocked to the floor, the two girls running off the stage again, the curtains closing for the next act. It continues without another problem, the third house painted with red brick staying up, the play running its course and ending with a row of tiny kids, either in costume or dressed in black as stagehands, emerging to take a final bow.

The drapes close for a final time, the lights of the gym growing brighter, everyone getting up from their seats. Conversation swells throughout the gym, resonating off the walls loudly. It makes anxiety flutter in Erwin’s chest, his heart beating faster as the crowd seems to grow and rise around him, his palm sweaty as he reaches out to grab Levi’s sleeve. His hand starts to shake.

Levi turns to him, sighing, a hand resting on his back, moving in a comforting circle.

“You’re okay,” Levi says, confidently enough that Erwin seems to believe it himself. His hand rests on Erwin’s shoulder, the squeezing of his fingers soft and reassuring. He starts to lead Erwin through the crowd, moves him so that he can press his back against the wall. They stay at the edge of the gym for a while, watching as the crowd dissipates; teachers herd the students out of the doors, the parents making their way to the stage or to the table covered in refreshments and an eye-searing plastic tablecloth sitting at the very back.

Erwin takes a deep breath, the crushing nervousness leaving his body. He takes a step away from the wall, his eyes scanning the room for his daughter. The two of them make their way towards the stage, where a tightly knit group stands, parents showering their kids with endless praise and love.

He finds Luisa with Curtis, who stands solemnly in between Auruo and Petra, his parents looking down at him with a soft smile of empathy. Luisa stands with her face inches from the boy’s, her voice cheery and her smile welcoming. She manages to make him give her a small smile, her arms wrapping around him in a hug.

“Luisa!” Erwin calls, and her head snaps to look at him. Her smile grows even wider, and she sprints her way towards him, raising her arms to be picked up.

“Did you see me? Did you see me?” she cries, and Erwin leans down to let her wind her arms around his neck, his own arm wrapping around her thighs as he straightens up.

“Of course we did,” Erwin exclaims. He presses his lips to her cheek, and she gives him a soft laugh in response, beaming at him. “We wouldn’t ever miss this.”

“You did really well,” Levi says softly, one hand resting on her head to ruffle her hair. She gives out a cry in protest, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout, and Levi’s grin widens. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Luisa says, her smile blooming again. “Curtis didn’t though.”

Erwin can’t help but snort at her comment, and Levi has to stifle his smirk. 

“The poor thing got a little bit of stage fright,” Petra pipes up, reaching down to cradle the back of her son’s head. Curtis clings to her skirt, disappearing behind his parents’ legs. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, right?”

“Better luck next time,” Erwin says. He tries to smile a Curtis, who further sinks behind his parents for refuge. 

The six of them slowly make their way to the table of refreshments, Petra singing praises over Auruo’s lemon squares. They eventually merge into the crowd of adults, their children breaking off from the group to run through the empty expanse of the gym, still in costume. Erwin and Levi make awkward conversation with some of the parents who showed up to see their children, complimenting each other on their costume designs or paint jobs on the props onstage. Children run by Erwin, stopping to gawk at his empty sleeve before a parent shuffles them away with whispered hushes, or Luisa threatens to punch them in the arm.

The calm acceptance of the parents around him aren’t enough to take away the nagging feeling of being watched; some ask whether Erwin is a distant relative, only having met either Hange or Levi through play dates or stumbling over each other at the park, their faces scrunching in confusion when Luisa calls for him. He notices Petra and Auruo by the wall alone, sending nervous glances his way as they murmur to each other. When Erwin meets their eyes, they turn away, offering nothing but awkward smiles and shifty eyes.

He can tell Levi notices it too; his stance is stiff, his napkin crumpled in his fist. He stomps his way to the trashcan in silent fury, shoulders stiff and eyes fierce, and Erwin excuses himself to go talk to him.

“Is everything alright?” Erwin asks softly. Levi turns to him, glaring, a muscle working in his jaw.

“Fine and fucking dandy,” Levi spits, eyes scanning the swarm of people by the table. “I’m about ready to leave.”

“Levi, stay civil,” Erwin begs quietly. “You know people are going to gossip, but don’t start anything over it.”

“How the hell am I supposed to ignore this?” Levi says through gritted teeth. “How the fuck am I supposed to sit by while I listen to them talk behind our backs, talk behind Hange’s back, and treat our family like a joke?”

“They don’t know about our family,” Erwin says. “You know they’re not going to understand.”

“It’s not my fault they’re all stuck-up, pretentious idiots,” Levi mutters.

“Levi,” Erwin groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please just bear with this a little while longer.”

“I can if my patience allows it. Although I wouldn’t count on it.”

“At least do this for Luisa,” Erwin says. He sees Levi’s expression soften, looking down at his shoes. “Look at how much fun she’s having. She’s having a good time. Don’t ruin this for her.”

“Fine,” Levi says. “But only for her. And maybe you.”

“Thank you,” Erwin says. His hand finds its way around Levi’s back, leading him back to their conversation.

Their time there passes by in a haze of compliments and baked goods. Erwin soothes his nerves through mouthfuls of snacks, Petra’s comment about her husband’s lemon squares being to die for painfully true. Erwin passes by each small group slowly, laughing and nodding and replying when appropriate. Levi tags along beside him, silently brooding, the rim of his plastic cup never leaving its spot glued to his lips. 

It seems like hours before the kids tucker themselves out, each child running to pull at their parent’s sleeve impatiently one by one. The crowd slowly starts to clear, only a few teachers and volunteers staying back to clean up. Levi takes the opportunity to scoop up Luisa, escaping with her and Erwin out into the parking lot; despite the idea of the dirty gym floors and tables, Levi turns down the offer to volunteer in cleaning, instead wanting to get out as fast as possible.

Erwin slips into the backseat with Luisa, strapping her into her booster seat as Levi positions himself in the driver’s seat. They spend the drive listening to Luisa dictate every detail of the production, her voice fast, and Erwin wonders whether she can breathe in her excitement. 

“Can we get McDonald’s for dinner?” Luisa asks. Erwin and Luisa look at Levi with hopeful eyes, two big smiles on their faces. Levi doesn’t turn around to give them their answer.

“No.” 

“Aw, but Dad,” Luisa whines. “You promised.”

“I never promised you anything,” Levi says. “I said I would make you your favourite tonight. There was no mention of McDonald’s.”

“But Dad-“

“But Dad,” Erwin joins in, imitating Luisa’s whine.

“Don’t you ‘but Dad’ me,” Levi says. “And don’t encourage her, Erwin. We’re not getting McDonald’s.”

“I want McDonald’s too,” Erwin exclaims. “Two to one, Levi.”

“No you don’t”

“Yes he does!” Luisa yells, raising herself up in her seat.

“No he doesn’t,” Levi persists. “Especially after having five brownies back at the school. You and your dad is going to end up growing a big muffin top if you keep eating junk.”

“You’d still love us if we had muffin tops, wouldn’t you?” Erwin says. “Plus, I think I would look good with one. Gives me the hot dad look.”

“Oh dear god,” Levi says. “You’re right beside our daughter.”

“Am I wrong?” Erwin says. He raises his eyebrows, meeting Levi’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Levi looks away, his ears turning pink.

“Last chance for McDonald’s,” Erwin says, watching the big yellow ‘m’ appear by the side of the road.

Levi looks at them from the rearview mirror, silently turning into the driveway and through the drive-thru. Luisa squeals with delight, kicking her feet giddily in her seat as Levi turns down the radio to order.

They leave with three bags strewn over Erwin’s lap. Erwin tries to sneak a hand into one of them, pulling out two fries and slowly handing one to Luisa. He cringes as the bag crinkles in his grasp, Levi glaring at them in the mirror.

“Don’t think you can get away with stealing fries back there,” Levi warns, and Erwin and Luisa sit up in their seats solemnly, smirking at each other mischievously as they’re able to sneak another fry for each of them.

The sky is a bright orange by the time they pull into their driveway, the sun beginning its descend behind the horizon. The smell and warmth of their home is a welcome feeling, and Erwin can’t help but scoop Luisa up and plop on the couch with her, snuggling up together.

“You two better help me in here,” Levi calls from the kitchen. They get up reluctantly, Luisa groaning melodramatically as she drags her feet on the tile floor. Erwin starts to set plates up at the table, Levi dumping each fry container into a plate. They settle down into their seats.

“So,” Erwin says after a while, his words garbled through his food. “Would you want to be in a play again?”

“Yes!” Luisa says brightly. She fiddles with her food, tearing her chicken nuggets into small bits, sauce smudging the black whiskers painted onto her face. “Yes, very much.”

“Stop talking with your mouths full,” Levi scolds, raising an eyebrow at Erwin. Erwin waves him away, Luisa giggling.

“Would you want to keep doing it when you grow up?” Erwin asks.

“Yep,” Luisa says, popping a piece of chicken in her mouth again.

“We’ll have an actress for a daughter,” Levi says. “Good thing we’ll have someone famous who can pay our bills.”

Erwin chuckles, finishing off his hamburger. The three of them eat in relative silence, Levi getting up first to clean his dish. The other two follow suit, Erwin wiping the sauce off Luisa’s face, black stains smeared over her face from her make up. 

“Are we gonna go check the plants today?” Luisa asks.

“Sure,” Erwin says. “But first, you’ll need to go change out of your costume and get your stuff ready. Think you can do that?” 

“Yep,” Luisa nods.

“You need one of us to help you?”

“Nope,” Luisa says, slipping off her chair.

“Careful on the stairs,” Erwin calls after her, listening as he hears her feet tap their way up the steps. When he hears that she’s safely at the top, he joins Levi by the sink, the two of them falling into their usual rhythm, Erwin sorting the dishes Levi hands him in the drying rack.

“You really think she can become an actress?” Erwin asks, raising an eyebrow.

“If she wants to,” Levi shrugs. “It’s not like we can stop her.”

“True,” Erwin ponders. “She sure shows the talent for it. Who knew she would have the attitude for it.”

“She’s like her mother,” Levi says. “Too energetic for her own good. I’m not so surprised.”

“Well, she could have ended up like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Erwin says, dramatically scratching his chin. “Brooding, moody, emotionally constipated-“

Levi shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “You better watch your mouth.”

Erwin chuckles, the phone ringing before he gets the chance to open his mouth to speak. Its sudden shrillness startles him, almost making the plate he’s holding jump from his hand. 

He leaves Levi by the sink, running to the living room to pick it up. He braces himself for the cry of excitement from Hange’s mother, shouting congratulations for her granddaughter. But when he answers it, the voice is entirely unexpected, his stomach seeming to sink to the floor.

“Moblit?” Erwin asks, his voice weak and shaking.

“Hello, Erwin,” Moblit says. He seems defeated, solemn from the other side of the line. “I hope we can skip the titles for this.”

“Y-yes of course-“ Erwin stutters. His heart palpitates in his chest, fear spreading through his body. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m going to skip the technicalities, since I know you know how this system works,” Moblit continues. “I’m so sorry, Erwin. Something has happened to Hange.”

The words are enough to knock the wind out of him, leaving his gasping, hyperventilating, his lungs straining for air. His whole body starts to shake, the phone falling to the floor with a crash as he hunches over, his hand clapping over his mouth. He feels bile rising in his throat, tears stinging in his eyes.

Levi rushes in from the kitchen, eyes wide with shock. His hands are on Erwin’s shoulders, rubbing circles in his back.

“What happened?” Levi asks frantically. “Erwin, what’s wrong?” His eyes glance at the toppled phone, picking it up off the floor; Erwin can hear Moblit’s nervous voice, the words too quiet to be intelligible. It’s all too much for him, panic making his muscles stiff and his mind race. 

He coughs, sour acid filling his mouth and stopping his breath in his throat. He rushes to the bathroom, and with one heave empties his stomach; the lemon squares and McDonald’s fries finding their place in the toilet water below him. His stomach continues to clench, leaving him retching even when there is nothing to release but dry air, his hand gripping the rim of the toilet bowl in desperation.

He falls to his knees, his hot forehead resting against the cold porcelain of the toilet as he tries to calm his breathing. It’s a while before Levi comes in, kneeling beside him on the floor, his arms encircling him.

“I don’t want to know,” Erwin whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. A sob wracks his frame, choking its way out of him. “I don’t want to know.”

“She’s alive, Erwin,” Levi whispers. His voice is thick, the words wobbling delicately on his lips. “She’s still alive, there’s still a chance, just hang on to that-“

“Don’t tell me,” Erwin cries, his shoulders shaking as he sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks and to the floor. “I can’t hear it, I can’t. I can’t stand to know.”

Levi shushes him, placing his chin on his back. He slowly rocks Erwin in his arms, his own body shaking, quiet whimpers cracking their way out of him. Levi tries to comfort him, brushing his fingers through blond hair, but Erwin can feel Levi’s own sadness and hopelessness, his body slack and weak around him.

“What happened?” Erwin asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He doesn’t look at Levi, just keeps his forehead pressed firmly against the toilet, huffing out a breath through his nose. His eyes stay closed, scrunched shut as he sucks in breath after shaking breath.

“It was an IED,” Levi chokes out. “She has multiple third degree burns. B-both of her legs and her left arm, below the elbow-“

“Oh god,” Erwin chokes out, his sobs growing louder. “Oh dear god.”

“They don’t know how badly it’s affected her cognitive abilities,” Levi continues. “They’re hopeful, but they still want us to be prepared for a worst case scenario.”

“Where is she?”

“In Germany,” Levi says. “She’s getting immediate surgery there right now. They’ll fly her over when they think she’s ready. If they need to they’ll pay to bring us there.”

Erwin only nods, no words coming from him. He doesn’t think he could speak if he tried.

“She’s alive, Erwin,” Levi whispers. “She may be pretty fucked up, but she’s alive. She’ll make it home alive. Just hang onto that for now.”

“She’s waiting for us,” Erwin finally says, and he doesn’t know whether he’s talking about his daughter or his wife. He lifts his head up, meeting Levi’s tear stained eyes. Erwin suspects he looks even worse than him. “We should get cleaned up.”

“We should,” Levi says. He gets up, his hand lingering on Erwin’s back, a gentle, comforting touch, something so rare of Levi that Erwin can’t help but smile. “Take your time.”

He leaves the bathroom, sniffing, leaving Erwin to care for himself. Erwin rises to his feet shakily, bracing himself against the wall. He’s still woozy, and his stomach churns as he flushes down the mess he’s left. Every movement is a tremendous effort, his muscles unsteady, his mind in a haze of racing thoughts as he opens the faucet, washing out his mouth and his face.

He wonders how Hange, although strong and brave and full of life, was able to survive something so brutal. He cringes at the thought of her in pain, writhing alone and terrified on a hospital bed like he had been left to do not too many years ago. He wonders how they’ll cope, how they’ll get her home and rested, how they’ll keep her safe even as the terror she’s faced still rages on in her mind like it does in his every day. 

He wonders how he’s going to face his daughter, how he’s going to keep the tears at bay as he watches her innocent face break, the smile shattering, wonders how he’ll cope with the tears and the screaming and the impatience, but most of all wonders how she’ll deal with it herself.

But before wondering, he still has to make his way out the bathroom door, bracing himself for the reality everyone will have to face soon. While he isn’t sure if he’s ready to face it, he takes in a deep breath, joining Levi outside the door anyway.


	9. Bombshell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mentions of morally ambiguous themes (euthanasia, or 'pulling the plug') that some readers may feel uncomfortable with. For readers who wish to skip this chapter, I understand. Read at your own risk.

When he steps out from the kitchen doorway, Hange is there. 

She’s standing with her back towards the front door, which swings open behind her, a looming figure standing still in the doorframe. He has a face, but Levi doesn’t register it, obscured in a shadowed haze. He only sees him as a straight-backed mannequin, the cloth of his uniform unmoving. Light seems to shine from the windows and walls, everything glowing white with a blinding intensity, glinting off the medals hanging solemnly from the mannequin’s bust, the stream of tears on Hange’s cheeks glistening, her face seeming to glow. 

She looks at him with a wide-eyed expression, pain etched in the lines creasing her face and her wobbling lip. She looks like a deer in headlights, Levi thinks, standing in shock, paralyzed by the light shining around them. He tries to move forward, but his own muscles are stiff, refusing to move; his feet are glued to the floor, like mud sucking against his shoes, weighed down by his own fear.

He feels a lump grow in his throat at the sight of her, trying to force his body to move, wanting to embrace her as her face crumples. The tears begin to start anew, her hands trembling in front of her, pressing over her abdomen. Her fingertips brush the waistband of her sweatpants, rolled over itself to accommodate her swollen belly. Her head tilts to the side, a silent gasp of air whooshing through her slightly parted lips.

He tries to step forward again, fear thrumming in his chest as he strains to move, his feet frozen on the spot. He reaches one hand out, moving it to cup her face, then reaching for her stomach and the infant nestled safely inside, but the harder he reaches the farther he seems to grow apart from her.

The swell of her belly disappears suddenly, intangible and nonexistent. Part of him, the rational part of him, wonders how it’s possible, how part of her could have just suddenly vanished before his eyes. The thought is swallowed up in his emotion, telling him it’s natural, normal, in fact, there wasn’t even anything there in the first place. He tries to shake off the feeling, weighing his arms and legs and mind down, drowning in it as he tries to break the surface; he loses the fight in the end, the burden overwhelming him like tidal waves on the sea, letting it drag him down until it convinces him completely that there is nothing unnatural, until the image is all but wiped from his memory.

The large curve of Hange’s stomach is replaced by a nauseating familiar pattern, her clothes suddenly, yet always being, splotches of green overlapping in military camouflage. 

Her eyes begin to light in horror again, the two of them looking at each other in despair as the white light of the walls swell, its intensity no longer comforting but monstrous, terrifying and deadly and burning at the two of them. Hange’s mouth opens in a silent scream that almost knocks both of them backwards, her body engulfed by the light’s burning chaos. She leaves Levi to stare in helplessness as he watches her leave him, senses the terror blocking him in from all sides before succumbing to it himself.

He gasps, sucking air into his chest like a drowning man. The dampness of his nightshirt makes the feeling of submersion all the more real, a cold sweat beading across his brow and down his chest and armpits. The room is dark, unfamiliar, his eyes opening to the plain white of a stucco ceiling, his hands grasping at the fabric of bed sheets that don’t belong to him.

“Levi.” The voice hisses in his ear, making him start on the mattress. A hand moves to steady his chest, rising and falling rapidly with the flutter of his frantic breath. One of Levi’s hands move up to grab it, knuckles growing white from the strength of his grip. His fingertips dance along cold metal, recognizing the rose and white gold bands across the ring finger, the pink luster catching Levi’s own identical copy.   
He snaps his head to the side, sighing when he sees blue eyes staring back at him. He pulls the hand on his chest to his cheek, closing his eyes against it as he turns into Erwin’s chest. 

“You’re okay,” Erwin murmurs. He pulls his hand from Levi’s grip, swinging it over him to pull them closer together. “Nightmare?”

“Hm,” Levi groans, nuzzling his face further into Erwin’s chest. He wraps his arms around him in a bear hug, letting himself be immersed by the sheer muscle of Erwin’s body, sinking into it’s warmth. He inhales sharply, the smell of detergent on his pajamas filling his nose, the only known or comforting smell in the stuffy hotel room.

“Strange how it’s you having bad dreams this time,” Erwin whispers, his words floating on a sad laugh, edging on bitterness. “You would think it would be the other way around.”

“I’ve had it before,” Levi murmurs. The images from his dream start to replay in his mind, blurred and choppy and almost impossible to decipher, like an old strip of movie film. Even now it begins to fade from his memory, slipping through the cracks of his mind like sand, enough of the grains getting stuck in the nooks to give him a shred of recognition. 

The scene has never left Levi’s mind since the moment he was there to witness it, still retaining a strange quality of lucidity and clarity even after the years since Erwin had come home. He’s not surprised it has stuck with him; he knows moments of trauma and stress find their way into the mind and can shape it to it’s will. Hange’s frozen silence the moment the soldier had appeared on their front door was more than enough to shake his spirit to the core, although not breaking it no matter how close it came to doing so.

It was a dream the rest of them knew he had, although acknowledging it was always a tentative topic to bring up in Erwin’s presence. But seeing Hange in her uniform, engulfed and exploding in the light, was new to him, a foreign sequence of imagery created in the depths of his subconscious. It was enough to send his heart into frantic palpitations, his stomach knotting deep in his gut and his mouth going dry, and he begs in silence with what little hope he has that it won’t become a new addition to his recurring nightmares.

Erwin’s eyebrows come together, scrunching over his tired eyes as they trace the lines in Levi’s face. Levi turns onto his back again, his body still flush against his husband’s, never relinquishing their closeness. Erwin’s hand moves to lie over his chest, and Levi wonders if he can feel the agitated beat of his heart in his ribcage, like a bird flapping wildly in it’s confines, singing its melancholy tune.

“Is it scary?” Erwin asks quietly, his thumb brushing over the damp fabric. His words are followed by a yawn, forcing Levi to follow along in its contagion. He feels the exhaustion in his body more than ever, an ache of weakness deep in his bones and a burning behind his eyes, but he still fights off sleep, knowing he won’t have to see Hange in pain again if he can’t dream. He wonders if staying up the rest of the night can keep tomorrow’s dreary presence from coming.

“No,” Levi says, his eyes never moving from their place, staring at a fixed point in the ceiling. “Just very unpleasant.”

“What does she look like in them?” Erwin’s voice is barely loud enough to hear, startling in it’s subtleness. Levi turns to look at him, blinking slowly as he stares into the deep pools of his eyes.

Levi sighs, turning back to look straight up again, his throat suddenly tight. “She’s still pregnant,” Levi chokes out quietly, “and her hair is actually loose. No gel.”

He hears sheets shifting by his side, and the two of them go silent, turning to see the neighboring bed. They stare in patience for a moment, watching Luisa stir in her own bed, pillows bordering her to keep her from falling off. Levi readies himself to leave the bed, starting to rise from the mattress in order to bring her his comfort, but she settles down, curling back into the mess of blankets and cushions.

“I wish I could have seen her like that,” Erwin says, breaking the silence. His words are softer, little more than a breeze, brushing over the goose bumps on Levi’s skin. “I wish I could have been there.”

“You were,” Levi corrects him. “You did see her. You were there for her.”

“I could’ve done a hell of a lot better, though.”

Levi sighs, turning back to face Erwin again. He raises himself higher on the bed so their faces are even, noses almost bumping against each other, their breaths intermingling in the small space between their mouths. Levi closes it briefly, placing a small, chaste kiss onto Erwin’s lips. 

“When are you going to stop pitying yourself,” Levi breathes. His hand brushes Erwin’s hair behind his ear gently, settling to hold the nape of his neck, squeezing softly, the pressure comforting. “You’ve done more than we can be grateful for.”

“I could’ve done more,” Erwin says weakly, but Levi can tell he doesn’t quite believe the words himself, his voice doubtful; whether it was Erwin internally wondering if he had surpassed what was possible, or him questioning his abilities and limits, Levi couldn’t tell. “I should have held her more. Told her I loved her more. At least before this happened.”

The last word is broken, his voice cracking as his lips turn inwards, mouth forming a thin, white line. The two of them heave identical, heavy sighs, the exhaustion in their bodies ever present.

“We don’t have time to regret what happened in the past. All we can do is focus on what’s happening now.” Levi whispers. His hand moves to brush Erwin’s hair behind his ear again, repeating the motion with smooth, soothing strokes. The short hairs of Erwin’s undercut prickle under his fingertips, the skin going numb. 

“And what if we regret what we choose to do now?” The words sound like that of a scared child.

“Erwin,” Levi groans. “You saw how she looked.” He huffs a long breath through his nose, keeping his gaze downwards, blatantly avoiding the needing stare Erwin gives him. When he closes his eyes, the pitch black seems to light up with the white glare of shining linoleum, boxing him into a stark hospital corridor. He furrows his brows at the thought, his skin crawling at the feeling of germs across his skin he knows, yet has to convince himself, that he is imagining. Glimpses of Hange fill his mind from the morning, her body still and prone on the itchy sheets of a hospital bed. Her face had been mostly covered in gauze, the skin they could see shining and cracked, burns like spider webs crawling from her face and pushing her hairline back, creeping their way down her neck and under her medical gown. Tubes and wires pulled her in every direction, some leading into her hand – the only limb she had left – a few others buried in the bandages that covered her face, winding their way into her mouth and nose.

“I’m sure I looked just as bad.”

“You didn’t have a fucking mirror beside your damn hospital bed,” Levi spits, wincing at his own severity. The wheezing of the machines beside her rattle in his head, like they do in Erwin’s, parts grinding and moving to breathe for her and feed her in her body’s stead. “You weren’t brain dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Erwin chokes. Levi looks up at him, chest tightening as he watches his face crumble, tears slipping down onto the pillow they share. “I’m just worried we’ll make the wrong decision.”

“It’s okay,” Levi whispers, kissing his cheek. He hears a soft groan from the bed beside them, turning to watch Luisa’s limbs curling farther into herself, the waves of her hair moving in one mass, ball of fluff across her pillow. They’re silent for a moment, waiting for her to get up from bed. It’s only when they see she doesn’t raise her head, lying still but for her torso rising and falling with her breath, that they start talking again.

“I’m just scared we’ll regret it,” Erwin whispers. “Pulling the plug.”

“Do you think she would want this?” Levi asks. He cups Erwin’s face in his hands, palms soft and cold against his stubble.

“I don’t know,” Erwin breathes. He closes his eyes, resting his chin on top of Levi’s head. “Do you?”

Levi doesn’t answer immediately. It’s an effort to keep his own tears at bay, his muscles stiffening, a wall keeping his sobs from breaking through. He thinks of Hange’s prone form again, how her calloused and bony hand had sat pale and limp in his own. No matter how hard he squeezed, how firmly his teeth and lips pressed against her hand - as if he could force his own life out and transfer it to her in some tenuous and fragile connection of skin against lover’s skin, or maybe as a simple and desperate form of reassurance that he was there beside her – he could gain no reaction, not even the simplest wince of discomfort. He had never seen her so vulnerable, literally lifeless in his grip, and knew nothing of her past energy and fight was stowed away somewhere deep inside her, even if she woke up in some miraculous event of medical or divine intervention. 

While he knows the inevitable outcome of their circumstances - knows it would lead to the eventual silence of the machines, the two of them left to watch as her body acts on its last primal actions before slowly fading out - he pushes it from his mind in ill denial, swallowing the lump in his throat to speak.

“I don’t know either.”

His words are trailed by nothing, the two left to bask in their uncertainty in parallel. Their hands work on their own accord, unthinking, pressing soothing motions or secure grips to backs and limbs in an attempt to console and a communication of their support. They move closer together, ignoring the emptiness of the bed, unaccustomed to the roominess the absence of a third body provides, as well as the loneliness it brings.

Erwin moves to look down at Levi, dark bags hanging under his eyes like hammocks. The lines of his face are a pang in Levi’s chest.

“We don’t have to make any drastic decisions right now,” Levi says in assurance, both to Erwin and himself. “We’ll stay near the hospital as long as we need to. We can sleep on it for a few nights.”

“Sleep on it,” Erwin repeats tiredly, his chin finding its place back on top of Levi’s head, digging down into his scalp as it lowers in a yawn. “Yeah.”

The two of them finally close their eyes, settling with their limbs entangled in the sheets, sweaty bodies clinging to each other behind damp clothes. Soon their breathing patterns sync together, hands growing still and limp around each other in their exhaustion, eyes drooping and minds wandering. No matter how hard they fight off the pulling grips and welcome embrace of sleep, it sucks them in again, wrapping them up in cold silence, and the one thing Levi hopes before letting his eyes drift shut is to spare him the pain of seeing Hange’s tear stained face in his dreams again.


	10. Shrapnel

The morning dawns tired and grey, the heat of the summer and the wetness of the rain threatening to fall mingling into a sticky humidity that forced clothes to cling to skin, and thick air to choke the lungs. No sun welcomes them as they rise that day – if it weren’t for the clock ticking, they would have thought that time had stood still, lost in their own hectic, aimless struggle to even gain the energy to get out the door to face the task of the day - the black sky of the early hours fading into a slate that blankets the sky, hiding it’s usual blue and glowing star with its sullen mood. Clouds roll across the sky, weeping over some unfortunate town in the distance, slowly making their way towards them to share in their mourning, comforting them with their showers. 

The weather embodied exactly how Levi felt.

He doesn’t look out into the congregation around him, faces wet and blotchy, all gathered around the glossy wooden box in front of them. It’s elegance and shine was a pathetic mask to the task at hand, to him a waste, knowing that it will be buried six feet into the earth in a moment, its beauty left to rot in the ground. He only looks up to the grey sky, feels something small and wet strike his cheek as he sways on the spot; he doesn’t pay attention, the pastor’s words falling deaf onto his ears as he stares off with dead eyes. If he lets himself feel, he doesn’t think there will be any sadness to show, only a cold, bubbling anger gnawing at his skin, grinding in his throat.

Something hiccoughs in his ear, his cheek itching with the brush of hair against his skin. It’s follow by a small whine, a choked sob, the body cradled in his arms shaking again. One hand moves to brush through the tangled mess splayed over his shoulder. He feels Luisa bury her face deeper into his neck, her arms a tiny vice around him.

“Shh,” he hushes. It’s the first time he has let something slip from his mouth this morning, his throat closed up in his own mourning, his lips seal tight from either annoyance or fear, fear that any words, even those in kindness, would send him reeling with fury. His muscles were tight, like the gears in a wind up toy cranked taught to the point of bursting like a firework. It takes all the concentration he can muster with his dead brain to focus on the body in his arms; paying attention to someone else’s sadness had kept his mind off his own.

His only other option is to stay silent, stiff and unresponsive like stone, making his way through the procession like a ghost, a dreary, unsettling presence drifting by solemnly. He doesn’t want to burst, doesn’t want to make a raging fool out of himself during such an occasion.

It was his own wife’s funeral.

He feels another raindrop strike his face, this time in his eye. Might as well, he thinks as he blinks annoyingly, if he wants to look as devastated as he actually feels. 

It continues, each drop coming faster and harder than the last. The people gathered look up to the sky with confused looks, the soft sounds of weeping reaching a decrescendo, bodies all clad in black huddling together under the few umbrellas that spring up from each clump of bodies. The smell of dirt and grass fills his nose, the scent of the upturned soil even stronger as it grows moist under the sky. 

The pastor falters by Hange’s coffin, his hand shaking and tentative as he waves at the little framed photos standing erect on the wood; her smiling, her with their baby in her arms, her with her arms around Levi and Erwin’s neck, their cheeks squishing against each other as they squeeze in for the photo, and the very same photo from their dresser drawer of her standing regal in her formal uniform standing smack in the middle mockingly, rubbing salt in the very fresh wounds. He wants to smash it against the tombstone. At least one of them will stop existing.

There’s a small whimper by his ear again, a sniffle as he feels a dampness in his suit that isn’t from the rain. He doesn’t bother to scold his daughter for wiping her nose on him. The poor girl has seen enough, has dealt with enough in the past few weeks than Levi ever thought a child like her could deal with in a lifetime. So he pats her back like he always does, soothing away the tears that haven’t seemed to dry since her fit outside her own mother’s hospital room, barred closed by his and Erwin’s hand.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into her hair. His mouth tastes sour as his lips work around the words. It was a massive lie. Some parent he was, lying to his child.

There is another sniff, louder, deeper, coming from above him. While the pattering of rain against the grass grows louder, it seems to disappear, the air above him suddenly dry. He feels someone press into his side, another hot, sticky body in the confines of a wool suit drawing the sweat from out of their pores. He looks to the face above him, tears streaking down Erwin’s cheeks, his chin trembling even as he clenches it, the tendons in his neck and jaw pulling the skin tight. His arm wraps around Levi’s shoulders, and he can feel the handle of an umbrella wedged between his shoulder and Erwin’s strong hand, the slap of raindrops against the umbrella canopy enveloping them, drowning out the sorrow.

Levi leans into the meager embrace, head falling back on Erwin’s large chest. He feels Erwin’s head fall onto his, the tears streaming from his cheek into Levi’s hair. Levi wants the world to disappear in this moment, the coffin gone, the tombstone gone, the droning of the damn priest Hange’s family had summoned gone. He only wanted his family here, complete and whole; he closes his eyes, tries to imagine Hange’s smile as she laughs along with the nonsense of their grief, her touch there to console them. But she wasn’t, the rest of her existence tucked away inside the green velvet lining the inside of her casket – she had always loved that colour, never the drab dull green of their camouflage, rather the vibrant emerald that sprung from life – leaving the family they had tried so hard to build to crumble with the foundation her life had taken a chunk of when her body had given out, given up.

Hange never gave up.

A voice jolts him from his reverie, someone calling his name as though from a distance, pulling him back into the present. His chest constricts, eyes flicking in between the solemn faces looking at him before settling on the chubby face of the man clad in old, black robes, his neck bulging over his white collar. 

“Mr. Ackerman?” the pastor’s voice is soft as he opens one arm to embrace Levi comfortingly, the other gesturing him towards the grave. The rest of his words continue to fall deaf on his ears again. He feels disoriented, confused, his feet like lead and his brain filled with cotton. Why are they forcing him to see the grave? He doesn’t want to see it buried in the ground, watch as his wife disappears from him. He squeezes Luisa to him tighter, almost refusing the pastor’s offer before Erwin comes to his shoulder with soothing words.

Levi’s head snaps up to look at him. “What?”

“You should be the first to cover her coffin,” Erwin murmurs. He looks down at Levi with red-rimmed eyes. “You’re first to toss the dirt over it.”

Bile rises in his throat, chest heaving with his breath. The gravity of the occasion seems to slam onto him, a sudden weight making his shoulders slump, his head ache. He’s burying his wife.

He steels himself as he takes a step forward, out of the protective surface of the umbrella. The rain is coming down harder now, enough to already feel the wetness in his shoulders, his suit wicking up the moisture. He makes his way to the edge of the ditch where his wife had been laid to rest, keeping his eyes away from the casket inside, his fists shaking by his side. When he looks back, Erwin is still standing solemnly by the front of the gathering, having not moved an inch.

“Erwin,” Levi starts, looking at him incredulously. They’re burying their wife, yet he leaves him alone to do this himself?

Before he can continue, call his husband closer, Erwin’s face begins to crumple. His shoulders shake with his breath, pressing his lips into a thin line as he stares longingly at the two of them by Hange’s grave, the tears flowing anew.

He whispers the words on a breath, Levi only understanding him by reading his lips rather than straining to hear the words lost in the cacophony of falling rain.

“We weren’t married.”

The words strike him like a truck.

Marriage.

It was the one thing that had fucked them over time and time again, the one thing that had strangers and friends alike staring at them with confused, aghast faces, what had made their existence together so impossible in the first place. It’s what kept Erwin from seeing Luisa, from seeing Hange in their hospital rooms without a fight, what forced them to keep their affection under wraps while out, what kept them replaying every word in their head to keep themselves safe. It was the ideal that had people mock them, the one that told them it was impossible, immoral, and what should have been given to them, all three of them, unconditionally, instead of leaving them to struggle and continue their fight for it which they knew was far from being won.

He looks out into the crowd, all of them looking to them with drawn, miserable faces. He recognizes most, and had hidden from so many. They didn’t understand, probably would never try to, their own ideals shaped by the whole useless structure in the first place.

Now, it was keeping Erwin from burying who should rightfully be his wife.

Levi pretends he didn’t see him mouth the words. “I need someone to hold the umbrella.”

He watches as Erwin jolts, a mixture of surprise and a sob. The corners of his mouth twitch up in a sad smile, dripping with sorrow but also of utmost gratitude and love before falling away, face twisting with the heaviness of the task. 

Levi turns back to the ditch, the sound of Erwin’s shoes crunching over the grass making its way towards him, his growing presence soothing, comfortable enough to take the edge away. He kneels down, one hand moving from Luisa to steady him against the ground, the pile of wet earth slowly growing into mud by his side. Erwin follows him, the rain above him suddenly stopping as he raises the umbrella above the three of them.

He takes a deep breath. One of his hands moves to the mound, his fingers sinking into the soft soil. He holds the crumbling earth in his palm, his arm shaking as he holds it above the hole, the tendons in his wrist poking out beneath the skin as he holds the dirt in his clenched fist. A few trails of dust seeps in between his fingers, the rest still secure in his hand; he was unwilling to let go, refusing to administer the signature blow that would secure her place in the ground. 

He wasn’t, and would never, be able to do this. He curses himself in his head; he should have been prepared for this, expected the worst the moment her foot had set on that plane across the ocean, should have braced himself for the fact that he may have never seen her again, let alone alive, the privilege he received to see her brought home was sheer luck in itself. But he hadn’t, had denied every horrible possibility and closed himself in, growing cold like a statue. He hadn’t been prepared when he had gotten the call from Moblit, that faithful day. He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye when he had let them send her into surgery, a futile attempt to save her, let alone the skin rotting around her stump; the last time they had seen her, touched her, she had been blistering hot from her fever, clammy and limp in her bed. He hadn’t prepared for her doctor to walk out of the surgery, face solemn, words deadpan and tearing him apart from the inside, his face never betraying the mess underneath the mask.

He looks down at the glossy mahogany nestled snugly into the pit, his vision blurring as tears fill his eyes, his breathing growing shallow and a hard lump sitting in his throat. Why now? He had made it through every moment of the past few months dead faced, stiff; had he retreated into himself to hide his own turmoil, refusing to face his own demons, or had he been a pillar for the rest of the family to lean on, staying strong so that they could stay upright with him? That pillar was disintegrating, falling into dust, a cracked sob breaking its way from his throat, everything he had hidden, internalized, about to flow out of him like a dam.  
He wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet.

He feels Luisa shift in his arms, her face just peeking out from under his chin. He sees a red rimmed, wide eye staring at him from under her curls, searching his face. One arm relinquishes its grasp from around his neck, chubby, dimpled fingers outstretched, reaching for his clenched fist.

“I wanna help,” she mumbles desolately, fingertips brushing Levi’s hand. The words are a blow, his own daughter offering to lay her own mother to rest, having more courage than him to face the truth. He almost refuses her, hikes her up his side to snuggles against his shoulder again, but her face is longing and sorrowful, and he needs to grant her wish if only to make the ordeal easier for her.

She raises her palm to the sky, its teardrops welcoming it, rain striking her skin. Levi tilts his fist, sprinkling some of the earth into her small, soft hand. She can’t hold much, and some of it slips through her fingers, falling onto the casket below. When her hand his full, she folds her fingers over the lump of dirt slowly, gently, as if she was holding something precious.

“You ready?” Levi whispers into her hair. She nods against him, and the two of them tip their hands, the earth spilling from their hold, cascading onto the casket below. They watch as it drifts through the air, taking another handful, the sound of it striking the wood below a booming finality.

The three of them retreat back to their place on the outskirts of the group huddling around the grave, Luisa burrowing herself back into Levi’s suit. He watches as the rest of the soil is tipped into the hole, a muffled crash thundering under his feet like an worsening storm as it settles against its place above the casket. All that is left is a dark patch in the ground, disturbing the even terrain of grass, marked by a stone already becoming weathered from the falling rain. The pastor finishes off his blessing, the crowd soon scattering, dissipating, leaving the three of them to stand guard by Hange’s final resting place.

In the distance, Levi can see cars starting to line up in the parking lot of the cemetery, two sleek limousines leading the chain. He watches as a mass of people approach the one in front, most with the same auburn hair and prominent nose piling into it slowly. They’re here to pick them up, and he knows in time he is going to have to leave, but he isn’t ready to abandon the grave. He feels as though his chest is being crushed as he is peeled away from his spot, following beside Erwin as their dress shoes stick in the mud.

He feels sick as he makes his way to the limousine. He hands Luisa off to Erwin, who cradles her in his one arm as he lowers himself into the leather seats, settling with her clasped in the crook of his arm. In exchange, Levi takes the umbrella, struggling to force it closed. Once he gets the latch undone, the canopy folding closed, he feels someone tap his shoulder, making him jump.

When he turns around, he’s faced with a petite form, familiar wide, hazel eyes staring up at him sadly, strawberry blond hair tied back neatly into a bun smack in the middle of the back of her head.

“Petra.”

“Hey, Levi,” she says softly, delicately, as if someone were sleeping beside them that she didn’t wish to wake. She extends her arms to him, her own face wrought with lines in her own sadness. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the visitation.”

Levi accepts the offer grudgingly, leaning into Petra’s hug, her arms slender but with the same unexpected strength that he was still trying to learn to associate with her. “It’s fine,” he shrugs, surprised at how comforted he felt with the gesture, the intimacy of it usually something he would cringe at. “I’m glad you could at least make it to this.”

“I wouldn’t have missed this,” Petra says. The two relinquish their hold on each other, backing away to look at the other. “Hange was so amazing. We’re all going to miss her so much.”

“Yeah,” Levi says thickly. He averts his eyes from her, trying to blink back the tears welling in his eyes again. The weight on his shoulders seems to grow heavier, his gut clenching at the affirmation of knowing he will never see his wife again. 

Petra gives him a sympathetic smile, one hand reaching out to squeeze his arm gently. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you guys. I know that you guys seem like an unconventional bunch, but it must be taking such a toll, I can’t possibly begin to understand it-“

Levi feels anger start to bubble in his stomach at the words, crawling under his skin and itching in his stiff, white knuckles. Of course she can’t begin to understand it, because she doesn’t even make the slightest attempt to, their love to her being some kind of unconventionality or rarity; not like a precious stone meant to be cherished and valued like it should, rather like some freak show in some travelling circus toted around so the innocent ignorant could gawk at them, with malicious upturned smiles. She can’t begin to understand only because she doesn’t try to, he thinks. None of them do, the world’s mindset hammered into their brains for so long and so hard that something as simple as their love can be turned into a complicated and unmentionable, incomprehensible mess, to the point where they can’t even share fully in the grief and remembrance at the loss of a vibrant, shining life because they were too busy whispering gossip behind their hands, finding it more appropriate to defame and stare suspiciously in such disrespect for the dead, let alone for those whose funeral they had just attended.

Levi tells her that.

Rather, he snaps just a snippet of it at her, his devastation and anger clouding his voice with nothing but a stuttering mess to the point where he can’t make it past his first sentence, ashamed that he can’t even do this, affirm the dignity and greatness of their wife and her love now that she could no longer do it herself.

He turns back to the limo, leaving Petra to stare at his back. He places his elbows on the roof of the car, feels the rain start to soak into the fabric, his head falling into his arms. His cheeks burn with embarrassment, utterly regretting his outburst. Rain hammers against his shoulders, his hair growing wet.

“You can’t even try to understand it,” he says again, whimpering into his arms, the muscles in his back growing tense as he forces down his sorrow, hiding his sorrow like he always does.

There is a pause to the rain’s assault, the air above him growing dry. There’s a soft pressure on his shoulder, Petra’s slender fingers still strong in their spirit as well as their physicality. When he looks up, he sees her umbrella above him, letting him mourn comfortably, a shelter he didn’t know he needed.

“You’re right,” Petra breathes. “I haven’t tried to understand, and it was rude of me to question it, or your loss. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Levi chokes out.

“Me and Auruo are here if you guys need anything. I also told the school and the PTA, so if Luisa needs anything, you guys can come to us.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. Erwin pokes his head out of the open door, blue eyes questioning. “We should start going.”

“Of course, I should be getting back to the car,” Petra says. Levi turns to watch her go, Petra offering him a small, painful smile, her nose rubbed red and her body soaked to the point of being wetter than her eyes. Her hand falls, leaving to make her way through the maze of cars in the parking lot. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” Levi says, raising his hand in a small salute to wave her goodbye before slumping into the limousine. 

The stretch of luxurious leather sounds beneath him as his body sinks into the seats, and he extends his legs, taking advantage of the entire space. He leans his head back onto the seats, closing his weary eyes, taking in a deep breath of the stale air. Outside, the torrent of rain batters the car, each strike creating a monotonous, muffled beat, all drifting together in a soft droning that slowly lulls him into a dreamlike state.

He feels the limo lurch forward, his body tilting to the side as it turns out of the lot and onto the road, its speed soon pinning him back into the seat before he can get used to the force. He opens his eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Erwin sits near him, Luisa half asleep and curled up in his side, her thumb popped into her mouth. The habit doesn’t irk him, even if it took the three of them months to help wean her off sucking her thumbs. She deserved none of what she was going through, and him and Erwin could let it slide if it meant giving her something to soothe or spoil her in the hell of the past few weeks.

“You were so good today at the church,” Erwin murmurs gently, his voice drifting to Levi over the pouring rain abusing the car outside. His arm wraps its way around Luisa, fingers brushing hair behind her ears and stroking her face comfortingly. She coos at the movements, curling up tighter, tiny sobs wracking her frame. “You have been so strong and so brave with all of this, we’re so proud of you, Daddy and I.”

The moment is heartbreaking to watch, Levi feeling a pang of agony in his chest, the image seared into his mind forever; his daughter weeping, the world’s cruelty and sadness ripping away her innocence too soon, his rightful husband left to choke back his own sorrow and fury at the unfairness of his place, not only in having to care for his own brokenhearted, distraught child after a funeral that she was so unbelievably undeserving to watch at such a young age, but at his own inability to express himself – themselves – out into public without people mocking or criticizing what should have been unquestioned and admired between them.

“Levi,” Erwin’s voice drifts to him again, pulling him from his trance. “Are you okay?”

The question is incredibly redundant to him. They just buried Hange. Of course he isn’t okay. None of them are. 

“Fine,” Levi chokes out.

“You haven’t said two words all day.”

“Just don’t feel like talking,” Levi says. He leans back in the seats, trying to muster a smile and only creating a grimace instead. The need to smile during times like these baffles him; why would everyone try to feign happiness during a time of sorrow? No one else but him felt the need to cover up, so why would they do the same as him?

They fall into a stifling silence, turning away from each other. He looks out the window, watches the droplets on the glass race each other across to the end of the car, vibrating. The cityscape appears before him, towering buildings flying past him in a blur, the faces of people milling the streets contorted by the car’s speed and hidden behind umbrellas, nothing but the splattering of colour in their clothes making an appearance, decorating the exteriors of the storefronts. He wants to scream out the window at them, watching them going about their day so normally, wants to shake their collars and yell at them to appreciate their lives, their loved ones; how can everyone take the people around them for granted until it was too late?

Levi’s thoughts are interrupted by Erwin’s voice, smooth and timid as he punctures the peace around them.

“Her squad,” Erwin says. “They all wore their uniforms to the funeral.”

Levi glares at him incredulously, surprised by the pettiness of his comment. How could their dress be the most important thing on his mind? When Levi doesn’t answer, he continues.

“Hopefully it won’t get out that we weren’t wearing our own, although I doubt anyone would care,” Erwin laughs pathetically, somberly, each chuckle sounding like a sob. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the uniforms,” Levi snaps. It’s a small relief to the anger bubbling in him, trying to force it’s way out. He tries to put a cap on it, digging his nails into his palms and pressing his lips together firmly, leaning down so that his eyes are pressing into the heel of his hands to the point where he sees stars. But it begins to grow greater, hotter, too heavy to keep in; he had sprung a leak, tried to cover it too late, and now the dam would overflow, burst, leaving devastation in its wake.

He doesn’t want to think about how he had to fight to not have Hange buried in that damn uniform. The thought is enough to have his throat burn.

The silence that follows hangs in the air heavily, almost palpable. If they tried hard enough, they could probably reach out and touch it, run their hands along its velvety smoothness, each breath sending ripples through its delicate form. It is a few minutes before it is broken, the most fragile of voices tearing it open.

“Daddy said a bad word.”

Erwin and Luisa giggle, something so simple bringing with it such a small sense of joy, one that was needed nonetheless. It is short lived, watching as Levi trembles, the blanket of sorrow wrapping around them again like a vice. The absence in it is so apparent, the same musical lilt they had all grown to feel as their home no where to be heard. the cacophonous guffaw and warm, calloused hands and soft thin lips that you can only expect after her nose had bumped into your skin first, gone but for a few traces of their memory, and slowly, agonizingly fading, leaving them to desperately grasp at the wisps they do have before Hange leaves them forever.

This is what sets Levi off, a wave of emotion he had been stifling coming over him, overcoming every function he has to keep it at bay, his body shaking with the force. He forces his face into his hands, eyes burning with unshed tears, nails digging into his forehead and bearing his teeth to grind against the skin of his palms. He hisses sporadic breath between clenched teeth, his body heaving with the force of each, strangled, grating cries tearing through his sore throat.

“Levi?” Erwin whispers. The stretch of leather can barely be heard over the ringing in his ears, Erwin approaching him with a soft embrace. 

Levi flinches at the contact, making Erwin jump back. He curls into himself, feeling every muscles grow tight as he hunches over even further. He was a balloon blown too large, flying too high in his delusion, and he was about to pop, exploding, only hoping that they could be wise enough to avoid the trajectory of the anger that would fly out of him.

He raises his head, the sinews in his neck pulling under the skin, his face contorting as he squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw opening wide to let loose the fury burning in his throat. But what escapes him isn’t anger; at least, he doesn’t recognize it as that, its power and turmoil carrying a different energy, one that exhausted him instead of winding him up. The cry that escapes him is almost primal, pulsing out of him with a strange and heavy forlornness that lifts the sorrow in his heart. He feels like an animal in a suit, stripping his defenses down, bearing himself and his pain to the world.

It begins to flow out of him, his skin growing wet with his intermingling tears and snot and spit as he presses his face into his hands again in shame. He begins to sob with abandon, grief filling him and overflowing with each pained whimper. She was dead, Hange was dead, died on the operating table that should have saved her life and brought her back to them, and there was nothing they could do about it but grieve, watch as everything they’ve worked for fall to shambles around them. 

He feels an arm wrap around him, blanketing him with security and love and warmth. Something pulls him up, inching him out of his fetal position. Luisa’s shoes dig into his thighs, her tiny arms wrapping around him, her own hushed and whimpering voice faltering on the words of kindness and reassurance her own brave, amazing heart could muster even in her pain. Levi pulls her to him, sobbing into her curls as she cries into his neck, Erwin’s arm wrapping around the two, the three of them a tangled, weeping mess.

“I miss your mother so much,” Levi breathes into her hair. He repeats the phrase like a mantra, the three of them falling into their own quiet thoughts with the words.

The three of them sit there, hands brushing through hair and cradling bodies, one mass built from the shared sorrow of their hearts, healing itself with the individual caresses and murmurs of assurance. They were shattered, bodies like shrapnel, each of them left to pick up each other’s pieces and put them back together. Some were bent and broken, not quite fitting where they were supposed to, other parts gone missing in the wreckage, but they patched themselves up nonetheless, the gaps and dents in the fabric of their being almost fixed by the love of the others. Almost.

They almost fall asleep, all three leaning on each other, nothing to the world but the hum of the limousine and the fading pitter-patter of the rain. Levi thinks he could stay like this forever, in the arms of the people he loves, only to be interrupted by the lurching of the limo as it makes its final stop.

The three of them let go of each other, stretching and yawning, their episode draining them of their energy and leaving a faint buzz of exhaustion. Levi looks outside the window to the banquet hall outside, guests already making their way up the steps with tissues in hand. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds, a few rays glaring across the glass, pin drops of colours reflecting and refracting in the raindrops clinging to the window.

The door opens, the driver waving them out.

“We’ll be out in just a minute,” Erwin says. The driver leaves the door open a crack, turning away to give them their privacy.

“I don’t want to go into this hall,” Levi groans. “I want to go home and flop into bed and be by myself.”

“We have to do this,” Erwin says. He offers Levi a tissue, one he graciously accepts. The three of them wipe the wetness from their eyes, leaving nothing but red splotches across their faces, noses and eyes swollen. “At least, to remember her.

“I’m going,” Erwin says. He opens the door, swinging one leg out before turning back to them. “Take your time if you need it.” 

“I wanna go home,” Luisa grumbles, one hand rubbing her face, her thumb slowly finding its place back into her mouth.

“So do I, pumpkin,” Levi sighs. “But we have to do this for mommy. You think you can go for just a few more hours?”

Luisa nods tiredly, looking up to Levi with those big, wide eyes of hers, never failing to bring him to his knees. He cups her cheeks, thumbs stroking the soft skin of her face as he leans in to press a loving kiss to her forehead. He stares at her for a moment, taking in her gorgeous face and shining eyes, the same spark of energy and vibrant life present there even in her sorrow, the same that had twinkled in her mother’s eyes with adoration and love. It lay in front of him, a living, breathing testament to the life of Hange Zoe, incredibly loud and brash and exciting and a heart strong like steel but still warm and loving, and he would cherish this little girl the most, just like he always has, now knowing he and Erwin will have to give twice the love to their amazingly deserving daughter.

“You’re so strong,” Levi says, his voice thick. He musters up a smile, his own lip wobbling, Luisa returning it around her thumb. “Your mother is so proud of you.

“You ready to go?” Levi asks. Luisa nods, wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifts her against his chest, slowly pushing his way to the end of the seat towards the door. Erwin waits for them by the front doors, standing tall and proud, his love like Levi’s own another astounding thing, unique and awe inspiring, that kept Hange Zoe’s memory alive.

With the thought of her in his mind, Levi swings his feet out the door, getting up to step out into the sunlight.


	11. Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has ever been a follower to this work. To every kudos, comment, bookmark, and subscribe. To everyone who has been following this little thing until now. Your encouragement and your love means more than I can ever express in my gratitude. 
> 
> Here is to the end, and to everyone who helped me get there.

She is still a dazed mess as she stumbles her way out from backstage, tripping her way through the crowds unceremoniously even before dropping into her dressing room. She is a mess of worn, old clothing that came off a school budget that almost couldn’t stretch for something so nice, black fabric stifling in the heat of pressing bodies and hot stage lights gleaming down at her. She wrings her hat in her hands, pushing others out of the way; she leaves green stains in her wake, makeup starting to smudge off of her in pasty clods. It streaks the roots of her hair, seeps into the hem of her dress by her neck, no doubt leaving a stain. 

She keeps pushing through, dismissing the parting crowd with a bow of the head and a bubbly smile; they are there to congratulate her, to be in awe of the star of the show. She is no doubt grateful, almost dizzy from the praise. Her gratitude swells in her chest, but she pushes it aside. There are more important people that she needs to see.

It is a hassle, but Luisa finds them. They’re being pushed around by the departing crowd, backed up into a little corner by the hall that leads into the lobby-made-art gallery beyond the auditorium. An exit sign hangs above them, a red glow casting shadows on the lines of their old faces, glinting off the wrinkles of crinkled plastic paper wrapped around a bouquet. Baby’s breath hangs over their arms like ivy.

Their eyes meet over a gaggle of young kids – probably some of the newer students from the school, still carrying a small edge of uncertainty common among high school freshmen as they shuffle around. Her father’s eyes light up, his one arm flying up in a wave; her dad nods in admiration as he finally spots her, one corner of his mouth quirked up his usual nonchalant smirk. She almost barrels down the kids in front of her, charging straight into them with a delighted squeal. People part as she makes her way, giving the three of them a wide girth, all unwilling to disturb their reunion.

“You were wonderful up there,” Erwin says, grunting as her arms whip their way around his neck; she feels the makeup on her face smudge across the fabric of his suit and couldn’t care less. His own arm snaps around her in an embrace, holding her tight.

“Thanks,” she says. She jumps back, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her father is disheveled, the green blotch on his shoulder doing nothing to help his appearance. His shirt is slowly falling from its place tucked into the pants hanging around the muffin top he so vehemently denies, the blond stubble on his cheek shiny. She almost gasps when he sees his watery eyes, his lids puffy and swollen.

“Were you crying?” she asks, prodding him incredulously. He gives out a choked laugh, his hand moving up to wipe the moisture under his eyes.

“Like I could have helped it,” he sniffs. “My daughter’s first big production. And in the lead role.”

“A high school production,” she scoffs. She wrings her hat in her hands, hopes the heat rising in her face is hidden under sticky bright green.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be excited about it,” he says. 

“Yeah,” she says, smiling sheepishly; she steps to the side to let another family pass them as they make their way to the lobby, averting her eyes in a polite nod as they gawk at her.

“Let yourself be proud,” he says. “We both are. Right, Levi?”

“Oh yeah,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her tone as she turns to him. Levi’s head snaps up at the mention of his name, face still scrunched in scrutiny, hands still picking the specks of pollen dotting his sleeve. “Dad surely looks ecstatic.”

The two of them snort in at her quip – rather, Luisa lets out a croak, her throat sore and cracked from the strain of belting over the stage at inhuman levels. She almost cringes at the thought of having to do it again for the next two days; cringes at the thought of her and Curtis embraced again, threatening to break into giggles in the middle of what should be a powerful romantic scene; cringes remembering her realization that she had forgotten her iron pill as she grew dizzy, anemia threatening her as she powered through the last bit of the act on the high, rickety pedestal meant to show the Wicked Witch of the West’s flight. 

“You watch the sarcasm there, young lady,” he says, fingers haphazardly brushing his sleeve. Still, he steps forward, one arm wrapping around his daughter. She returns the gesture gently, careful not to crush the delicate flowers between them, its wrapping crinkling loudly as their bodies try to get closer together. 

“Like you’d ground me now.”

“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” he says. “Your freedom ends the minute you step out of this theatre.”

“Good thing we snuck booze into the dressing rooms,” she snorts. He returns her smirk, shaking his head.

“Your voice sounds a little hoarse,” he says offhandedly as he stretches to kiss her cheek; it’s the rare occasion where she would let him, leaning down slightly to lessen the height added by her heels. He plops the bouquet in her arms, almost grateful to be rid of it.

“Yeah, no shit,” she says.

“Language.”

“Like you two sound like angels.”

“Well, we can’t all be gifted with talent like you are,” Erwin interjects. “And hearing you now, you might want to take as much advantage of it as you can. At this rate you’ll sound like a chain smoker in a year.”

“Oh shut up,” she says, nudging him playfully. “It’s just been a long night.”

“Yeah, and it’s gonna be a longer one,” her dad says. “Your father-“

“Levi, don’t.”

“She going to see it coming home anyway, I think this is surprise enough,” he continues. “He decided it would be a good idea to invite the family over for some kind of after party.”

Her shoulders slump, head leaning back as she groans dramatically. “Why would you think that would be a good idea?”

“It wasn’t mine in the first place,” he says.

“On the first night?”

“You don’t have to stay downstairs and socialize if you don’t want to,” he says, ignoring his husband’s disheartened stare. “I’ll suffer through your father’s parents for the both of us.

“Now go change,” he says, nodding back towards the stage, “before you bleed green on the both of us.”

“They wanted to see her in her costume,” Erwin mumbles behind him, disappointed.

“No way in hell is she rubbing that makeup off all over the house,” Levi says. “Now go, short-stuff.”

“Still taller than you!” she cries. She smirks as she turns away, the flowers whipping against her shoulder; it was an endless, teasing game between the two of them, rebuttals of wearing shoes or her big hair arguments in a fight both of them are two stubborn to lose. 

“Only when you’re wearing heels!” she hears him call to her, even as she is already on her way back to the dressing room, tripping over her own skirt as she pushes against the flow of people slowly filing out, having got their own fill of entertainment for the night. 

She finds her way into a dark side hallway, pushing open the massive doors that lead into the blindingly bright stairwell that spirals down menacingly into the basement below. Her heels clack against the cement steps, echoing off the walls, her hand chilled by the metal handrails. She is wedged flat between the wall and a massive case as some of the band kids scamper their way down, hefting instruments in tow; the bars of the stairs dig painfully into her side. The halls are eerie and cold but she loves them, loves the chaos and raggedness hidden behind the false pristineness of the stage, loves the strength and stress and pandemonium of the people working behind those big red velvet curtains, so much more behind it than shown on the surface yet so immensely unappreciated. 

She wonders whether she will meet hallways like this again in her life, if the flurry behind the sets of bigger stages she might not even reach will match its beauty, or if it only grows more chaotic in its messiness as the performances grow more grand. Her stomach flips at the thought of leaving this hallway for good; not in the same excitement that she faces knowing she will finally leave four grueling years of school behind, but in a strange sadness, as though she were already nostalgic before even parting from it.

She smacks the back of her hand against the wall, a crude outline of a green hand against the slate grey walls. It looks more terrifying than sentimental, reminiscent of a murder scene in emerald blood rather than a heartfelt place to leave a piece of happiness behind. The janitors will find it eventually, wipe it off, but she will leave better marks in bigger places than this.

Soon she is close enough to hear the cacophony of the dressing rooms, see the bodies of weary but smiling people zipping by under the stairs. There are people laughing, swearing at each other. In one room she can hear members of the orchestra, loud but muffled behind their own cramped little room, playing snippets of their music in little trills.

She skips the last few steps, grunting as she feels the shock of it in her ankles. There are others still fooling around in their costumes that wave to her, cheer her on, but not with the same intensity that the audience gapes at her. She slips into the dressing room relatively undisturbed.

The room looks like a bomb had gone off in it, frills and laces from discarded set clothes hanging off rails and mirrors, bags laying forgotten under tables and draped over chairs, cracked makeup making powdery messes of the cheap vanity desks that run along the walls. There are three people tending to the Glinda, a big puff of brilliant blue taking up half the room. She smiles through her laughter as Luisa walks by, the corkscrew curls of her blonde wig falling over her face, revealing the hijab underneath. She’s too cute for her own good, let alone Luisa’s.

She pushes her way around carefully, the dress so intricate even for their budget’s standards that it left everyone in awe, no doubt the reason it took four people to tend to it do delicately. Slumping into her seat, she grimaces at herself in the mirror. Her hair had regained its frizziness before the end of the first act, no amount of flat ironing able to tame it. Her makeup is smudged beyond repair.

She thinks of heading to the bathroom to wash off, but the bouquet she plops on the table draws her attention. It is a violent mess of orange lilies and white roses, all daintily arranged, mutedly gorgeous. A little slip of stationary peeks out from the leaves, and she picks it out with her thumb and forefinger.  
Her thumb rubs against the ridges of the paper, swirls bordering its corners, soothing against her fingertips. She reads through the little sappy message of pride and love and amazement at the fact that yes, she is no longer the little girl they remember her to be, grinning. Its sweetness leaves a taste of embarrassment on her tongue, but she is grateful, happy as she skims the signatures of her fathers at the bottom.

There is a third one below them.

She almost thinks it’s simply a trick of the mind, but her heart squeezes painfully in her chest once she recognizes it. Rather, she realizes what the crude imitation is actually meant to be, the cursive too unsure and wobbly to have been written by the excited, jittery hand of the proper person who possessed it. Her hands press wrinkles into the note, smearing the already smudged ink scribbled onto it. 

She is four again, the string of her party hat digging uncomfortably into her chin, and her hands are ripping through the wrapping of her birthday present; the hands that give the box to her are slender and calloused, the face of their owner no more than a blurry grin and a husky laugh. She doesn’t know what the present is. The signature on the wrapping is tossed to the side, forgotten.

She feels a whimper find its way out of her throat, tears welling up in her eyes. They roll down her cheek, splattering across stationary, wisps of green seeping into the white paper like vines.

As much as she accepts them, she is no less shocked by her reaction; her mother had died years ago, years before she could remember her fully, the many gaps filled in by testimonials of relatives emphasizing her love and energy and persevering drive, all of it so endearing but just never enough to satisfy her. She wanted the real thing, flesh and bone, to feel and sense her rather than just picking out memories that have already faded. She wants to hear that laugh, that encouragement and energy that would have so matched her own. She wants to know her voice again.

Would she have looped her Z’s the way her dad did, put so much emphasis on the little bumps of letters after the first letter of her names? Had she had a little more fight in her to live, would she even be able to sign it? Had she lived would she be able to loop her Z’s just right as before, or would she have forgotten how, had forgotten her daughter the same way Luisa loathed losing the memory of her?  
Would she have wanted to sign it?

She would have, of course she would have. There was love behind what crooked parts of that smile she could remember.

She is startled by a tap on her shoulder; she turns around to see the Good Witch of the South, her gown gone but her elegance and caring still there, her hand still poised as if holding an invisible wand with magic that could take away whatever bad things were causing her pain. 

“Luisa, dear,” she says. “Is everything alright?”

She turns back to the mirror, seeing the faces of the concerned reflected back at her. Her face is a mess, her pale skin showing through the streaks of her makeup, her eyes darkened by the running eyeliner. The lights lining the top of the mirrors throw her face into shadow, thinning the sharp lines of her cheekbone, the prominence of her chin. The room has grown silent in her outburst.

She wipes the tears away from her face furiously. It does nothing more than make a bigger mess of her, but she is nothing if not a wonderful mess, proud to be a daughter of three, a patched up family with fire in their veins, with a voice that could stun the gods boiling in her throat.

She starts to pick up her belongings, a few offering their help. The tears are gone as fast as they had come, leaving her with a lightness in her chest, a soft reassurance that not everything had been lost or forgotten that more could be built up in its place.

She smiles at the still wary faces, watching them calm with her. She loves them, and they had loved her, and as her face slowly breaks into a sly grin, she can’t help but be thankful of never having an absence of it.

“I guess,” Luisa suggests, “you could say that everything is a little wicked.”

She is met with an indignant scream and a shoe thrown at her head, losing herself in the pandemonium as the change room erupts as a result of her audacity.


End file.
